Rain lashed against the tall, arched library windows. Dust motes danced within a single cone of light. A single lamp illuminated the large, dark oak desk. A man slumped forward over an ancient leather-bound book. His head rested gently upon an open page of text. A small, dark stain spread slowly across the fragile paper. An ornate letter opener lay beside his pale, still hand. The grand old clock on the wall had stopped ticking. Its hands were frozen precisely at the stroke of midnight. Something vital was missing from this very quiet, tidy scene.