"Russell Benjamin... was it he who inquired about me to you this afternoon?"
A robust and towering figure sat in a high-backed chair, the window behind him tightly curtained off. In the corner of the vast desk, a candle flickered and rose, its weak and dim candlelight illuminating the man's chest but failing to reach his cheeks.
Trembling all over, Hilton Mobley stood opposite the desk, seemingly in fear of the man, his voice quavering, "Yes... it was Russell Benjamin! I think he must know about the Werewolf. The Underground Dark Chamber of the club was sealed with mud, and it must be related to him!"
"Mr. Butler... you must help me! If we don't deal with Russell Benjamin soon, my presence might be exposed!"
Creak...
