Downstairs, the dining room was empty.
Duke Carson turned around and began to walk slowly toward the front doors of the mansion. The clicking sound of his silver cane echoed in the quiet hallway.
Uncle Murry walked respectfully a few steps behind him, ready to escort his master to the waiting carriage.
As they walked out of the drawing room hallway and into the grand foyer, Carson suddenly stopped.
He leaned heavily on his cane. He did not look at Murry right away. He stared thoughtfully.
"Murry?" Carson said suddenly. His deep voice sounded very serious, and highly questioning.
Uncle Murry quickly stepped forward and bowed his grey head.
"Yes, your grace?" Murry replied politely, waiting for his orders.
Carson slowly turned his head to look directly at his trusted servant. The old Duke's sharp eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion.
"Didn't you sense the strange undercurrents at the dinner table just now?" Carson asked, probing for the absolute truth.
