As they were escorted through cavernous halls lit by electric flambeaux and wide, carpeted corridors lined with portraits in gilt frames, it became apparent that the house had seen better days. Priceless furniture was covered beneath sheets of linen, gathering dust, vases and pots were choked with desiccated plants and flowers long past the point where watering would have saved them. The servant who escorted them was evidently one of only a handful who remained to keep the house in working order, the household operating with only a skeletal staff. Lord Arthur received them in the library, carpeted in thick rugs the color of spilled blood, the walls covered in dark paneling, lamplight flickering off the steel of crossed swords over the fireplace. This was clearly the sanctum of an explorer, African tribal masks on the walls opposite the fierce visages of masked Japanese helmets, a towering pyramid of maps and charts piled haphazardly beside an enormous globe, totemic figures and amulets crowding every available shelf.
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