Something struck me as unusual about the place, but I could not tell at
first what it was. One of the bedroom windows was open, and the
customary short blind, with its brass upper rail partly unfastened,
drooped obliquely across the vacant space. It looked negligent and odd,
for usually everything about the cottage was conspicuously trim.
The door was standing wide open, and everything was still. But giving
that usually orderly hall an odd look—it was about half-past two in the
afternoon—was a pile of three dirty plates, with used knives and forks
upon them, on one of the hall chairs.