The heavy rain pounded against the dark windows of the old mansion while the wind howled through the cracked stones outside. Lord Harrington lay motionless on the expensive Persian rug with a silver dagger buried deep within his chest near the heart. A single drop of crimson blood slowly trickled down the pale skin of his neck and stained the white collar. Detective Miller stepped into the cold room and carefully adjusted his fedora before glancing at the terrified maid standing nearby. The clock on the mantle had stopped at exactly midnight which suggested that the killer had struck at that precise hour. He knew that tonight would be a long night because everyone in this house had a secret worth killing for.