Eric's voice, now gaining strength, cut through the heavy, emotional atmosphere of the private tea room.
"Bring him in," he commanded.
The door opened, and Mr. Rye dragged in a man whose face was a swollen, bloody mess of bruises. His clothes were torn, and his eyes were covered by a strip of dark cloth, a blindfold. Mr. Rye, showing no pity, threw the man onto the expensive rug in front of Eric, Delia, and Lyra. The man landed, hitting his head on the floor with a pained groan.
Delia and Lyra looked at Eric in complete and utter shock. Delia's gaze remained on him. This was a side of the calm, sophisticated, gentle husband she had never seen before.
"Thank you, Mr. Rye. You may wait outside," Eric said, his voice still dangerously quiet. Rye bowed and left, closing the door behind him.
"What is going on here, Eric?" Lyra asked, her own voice a mixture of confusion and alarm. "Who is this man?"
