The rain hammered against the library windows, creating a symphony of droplets on the mahogany surface. Inspector Davies, a man who knew the chilling sound of doom well, stared out, the flickering gaslight casting long shadows on his tired face. He saw the bleak, swirling fog outside and couldn't help but draw parallels to the tumultuous storm brewing in his gut. Through the drizzle, a figure briefly materialized - a retreating shadow gripping a stack of books tightly. The suspect had been inside, that's what bothered him most. Every dusty tome and creaking floorboard whispered secrets only he was privy to hear. The silence of the remaining patrons was deafening. A hush fell over Davies as the door opened, revealing a nervous young man clutching his coat against the wind. His gaze darted towards the exits, a frantic blush covering his face. He felt a familiar chilling sensation: curiosity mixed with apprehension. "This library was his world..." the old librarian muttered, needing no further explanation to illustrate the crime. The stillness gave way to a cacophony of the sinister thoughts echoing in Davies' mind. The young man's mistake, thought Davies, his eyes narrowed as he observed that the young man couldn't tear his eyes away from the door that he knew given the librarian he find solace in silence. The librarian would be the first to point out, Davies thought, the sinister nature of it all.