It had a solitary aspect and was much less comfortable-looking than he had expected.  Indeed, there were signs of poverty, or at least of neglect, about the place that astonished him.  Not only had the weeds been allowed to grow over the doorstep, but from the unpainted front itself bits of boards had rotted away, leaving great gaps about the window-ledges and at the base of the sunken and well-nigh toppling chimney.  The moon flooding the roof showed up all these imperfections with pitiless insistence, and the torn edges of the green paper shades that half concealed the rooms within were plainly to be seen, as well as the dismantled knocker which hung by one nail to the old cracked door.  The vision of Knapp with his ear laid against this door added to the forlorn and sinister aspect of the scene, and gave to the constable, who remembered the brothers in their palmy days when they were the life and pride of the town, a by no means agreeable sensation, as he advanced toward the detective and asked him what they should do now.

“Break down the door!” was the uncompromising reply.  “Or, wait!  The windows of country houses are seldom fastened; let me see if I cannot enter by some one of them.”

“Better not,” said the coroner, with considerable feeling.  “Let us exhaust all other means first.”  And he took hold of the knob of the door to shake it, when to his surprise it turned and the door opened.  It had not been locked.

Rather taken aback by this, he hesitated.  But Knapp showed less scruple.  Without waiting for any man’s permission, he glided in and stepped cautiously, but without any delay, into a room the door of which stood wide open before him.  The constable was about to follow when he saw Knapp come stumbling back.

“Devilish work,” he muttered, and drew the others in to see.

Never will any of these men forget the sight that there met their eyes.

On the floor near the entrance lay one brother, in a streak of moonlight, which showed every feature of his worn and lifeless face, and at a table drawn up in the centre of the room sat the other, rigid in death, with a book clutched in his hand.

Both, had been dead some time, and on the faces and in the aspects of both was visible a misery that added its own gloom to the pitiable and gruesome scene, and made the shining of the great white moon, which filled every corner of the bare room, seem a mockery well-nigh unendurable to those who contemplated it.  John, dead in his chair!  James, dead on the floor!

Knapp, who of all present was least likely to feel the awesome nature of the tragedy, was naturally the first to speak.

“Both wear long beards,” said he, “but the one lying on the floor was doubtless Loton’s customer.  Ah!” he cried, pointing at the table, as he carefully crossed the floor.  “Here is the bread, and--” Even he had his moments of feeling.  The appearance of that loaf had stunned him; one corner of it had been gnawed off.