Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCR7NTK57G26BT32QR6T0H7

The rain had been falling on Ashgrove Manor since midnight, and by dawn the gravel drive resembled a shallow river. Inspector Halloway arrived at seven, boots soaked through, holding a black umbrella that the wind had already turned inside out. The housemaid who had discovered the body stood beneath the portico, wringing her apron, unable to speak a single word. Her name was Nell, she was nineteen years old, and she would never enter the east library again after today. Sir Edmund Verrell lay face down across his desk, one hand gripping a fountain pen, black ink pooling beneath it. The wound sat at the back of his skull, deep and narrow, clearly the work of something heavy and deliberate. Nothing had been stolen, every window was latched, and the heavy oak library door had been locked from the inside. Halloway crouched beside the body, studied the pen, and asked the trembling maid what time she had brought the tea. Half past six, she whispered, and he was already cold, sir, although the green desk lamp was still burning brightly. Somewhere above them a floorboard creaked, and Halloway looked slowly up, counting the seven guests he had not yet met. One of them had killed him, and the rain, mercifully, would keep all of them inside the house until nightfall.