Rodrick was the only one left in the study.
He leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. The brandy had eased the tightness in his chest, but it hadn't truly dispelled it.
He had already pushed that nobody named Murphy to the back of his mind.
Was a Wild Wizard who crawled out of the sewers even worthy of being personally received by him?
After a moment, Rodrick opened his eyes and glanced at the clock on the wall.
The hour hand was already pointing to ten.
He stood up, walked out of the study, and went down the corridor back to his bedroom on the third floor.
The bedroom was large, with a wide four-poster bed in the center, dark curtains hanging down its sides.
A chaise lounge sat near the floor-to-ceiling window, which overlooked the meticulously kept garden, cast in faint, dark shadows under the moonlight.
Rodrick took off his jacket, tossed it carelessly onto the lounge chair, and collapsed onto the bed.
