THE clink of cutlery and the faint aroma of slow-roasted lamb drifted through the dining hall as the hired cook for the evening moved briskly, arranging the final settings on the long polished mahogany table. Crystal goblets gleamed under the soft chandelier light, and the faint hush of jazz playing from the distant speakers filled the air with an illusion of warmth the house itself never offered.

Oswald stepped in, tall and broad-shouldered in his usual dark suit, his eyes sharp and cold as they swept over the table. The cook straightened immediately, murmured a respectful greeting. Oswald answered with nothing more than a grunt, a sound more suited to...