In dimly lit Victorian mansion, detective Arthur Stone steps cautiously over creaky floorboards. His keen eyes scan the grand hall, noting dust-laden portraits lining the walls. A sudden chill fills the air, as if the house itself holds secrets. Lord Blackwood's lifeless body lies sprawled in the drawing-room, unmoved. Stone examines the scene, every detail crucial, absence of a struggle apparent. Lady Blackwood's eyes, wide and unblinking, emit haunting despair. A void where once music danced, the orchestra's grand piano now silent. Nearby, an untouched glass of brandy on the mahogany table. A crude, red scarf wraps around Lord Blackwood's neck, an odd contrast to the room's elegance. Time's relentless march halts as Stone enters, pointing a finger, investigating each clue methodically. Unsolved questions fill the detective's mind; a meticulously planned crime. The evening grows darker outside, but within the walls, rays of justice seek light.