Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK9JNDD8RYKVNBGZ5ZCYZ4D

Fog pressed against the manor windows as Inspector Hale arrived, summoned by a midnight call from Lady Varrin alone tonight. In the foyer, candles guttered, and guests whispered of theft, while a gramophone played waltzes too cheerfully softly for mourning. Lady Varrin led him upstairs, past portraits watching, to the library where Sir Alistair lay facedown beside ink spilled everywhere. The window stood open, yet the latch was unbroken, and snow on the sill held no footprints at all tonight. On the desk, a sealed envelope bore Hale's name, its wax stamped with a serpent curling around roses in red. Before he touched it, the butler confessed hearing a quarrel, but claimed the voices ended suddenly upstairs near the clock. Hale studied the corpse's hand, noticing missing cufflinks, and realized everyone present wore gloves despite the fire burning bright below.