The storm raged mercilessly above the ancient mansion. Rain pounded on the roof,(tree branches scratched at the windows like skeletons. Inside, Mr. Worthington sat hunched over the golden statue on his desk. Its eyes seem to warn, him of danger approaching. The mansion's since to him. Suddenly, the lights flickered. Then, they went out. Thunders roared, shattering glass. Mr. Worthington whimpered in the darkness, expecting a fatal blow any moment. Silence. Then, a scream pierced the night. Mr. Worthington ran toward the sound with a flickering candle. Mr. Worthington stumbled over the body of his beloved wife, Lady Elizabeth. Her throat was slit. Dazed, Mr. Worthington slowly rose. Just then, the library door slammed shut. He whirled around to see an intruder fleeing out the window. Worthington bolted after them, out into the maelstrom. Rain lashed his face as he chased the shadowy figure across the lawn. Then, he lost sight of them. Mr. Worthington stood alone in the deluge, soaked to the bone, his mind reeling. The murderer had gotten away, slipping through his fingers like mist. But he knew, deep in his soul, that they would be back. Revenge was coming for Mr. Worthington.