Transfixed, Eric continued to watch even as Mr. Rittevon suddenly threw Lott to the floor, and turned his attentions to the cowering Frisch.

Behind him, Lott trembled so badly he was unable to get up. Frisch made a run for it, but was intercepted by Mr. Rittevon, who snatched him by the tie and jerked him backwards.

For a split second, Eric thought Mr. Rittevon saw him, and turned away from the door, heart pounding.

Seconds later, there was a scream that seemed to pierce him all the way to his bone. Deeply terrified, Eric stood frozen with his back against the door. The screams of pain and agony subsided into quiet sobs, and he let out a breath he wasn’t aware of holding.

Suddenly, the door he wasn’t leaning on opened, and he let out a cry of horror and disgust. Mr. Rittevon stepped out of the room, hands covered in blood.

Instantly, Eric wished he had kept silent as his employer turned, noticing him. There was a sinister, sick, sublimely satisfied smile on his face, that somehow ruined his handsome features. He tilted his head slightly, slowly looking the terrified steward up and down.

“Well,� he said, almost a whisper, “What have we here?�

Eric trembled a little as Mr. Rittevon took a few steps toward him, and lifted a hand to touch his face, leaving bloody streaks dripping down the young man’s cheek and lips.

“Do me a favor, will you?� Mr. Rittevon said, almost demurely, “Get my handkerchief for me.� The look in his eyes and connotation of his statement showed clearly that it was not a request.

Before Eric could ask the question, it was answered. “In my… in my coat pocket. Go on.�