Rain drummed against the glass with a sharp, rhythmic beat. Arthur poured one glass of scotch for his final guest. The heavy oak door swung open with a loud groan. One single candle flickered before dying in the cold draft. A silver blade rested quietly upon the white linen cloth. Nobody heard the muffled scream behind the library's locked door. The grandfather clock struck twelve times as the body fell. Footsteps echoed down the hall toward the dark kitchen stairs. Blood pooled slowly on the rug beneath his lifeless hand. One guest remained missing while the storm raged outside tonight.