Run: 2026-09-03-01M1M276GS9ZVRG38TFVKAA7YF

The rain had not stopped for three long, dreary days when Inspector Harlan finally arrived at the remote ancient estate. He stepped from the black carriage, collar turned against the biting wind, and studied the silent crumbling mansion before him. A single lamp burned in the upper window, its pale glow barely piercing the thick and unnatural gray fog outside. The butler opened the heavy oak door before Harlan could knock, his weary face pale and drawn with evident fear. Harlan stepped inside, the faint scent of damp stone and something disturbingly metallic clinging faintly to the cold still air. The Inspector followed the trembling servant down a long dim hall toward the closed library doors at the very end. He slowly pushed the heavy doors open and froze, for Lord Ellingham lay sprawled upon the Persian rug, quite dead. A heavy silver candlestick rested near his outstretched hand, its base smeared with a thick, dark, and unmistakable red stain. Yet the tall French windows were locked from within, and no muddy footprint marred the dark wet garden stone outside.