The grandfather clock chimed once in the dark, silent hall. Rain lashed against the tall, leaded glass of the library. A single desk lamp cast long and very eerie shadows. Thunder rumbled deeply, shaking dust from the old leather books. Lord Harrington sat slumped over his vast, polished mahogany desk. His cold, lifeless hand still clutched a gilded fountain pen. A dark crimson stain bloomed across the green leather blotter. His eyes stared, unseeing, at a half-finished, cryptic final letter. The heavy library door creaked open with a deep groan. A tall, unknown silhouette stood waiting within the sheer darkness.