The old library clock had just struck midnight. Arthur entered the room holding a silver tray. A strange and unsettling silence filled the air. He saw his master slumped in the chair. Lord Harrington did not move or even breathe. A single red stain bloomed on his shirt. Arthur felt a cold dread creep up him. An expensive dagger lay on the Persian rug. He knew that he must call for help. But his feet were frozen solid with pure fear.