Utterson leaned his forehead against the wood. 'Henry,' he spoke, ignoring the strange voice that answered. 'I know you are in there. I know of the will, the cane, everything. Open the door, and let us face this together.' Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Then, a low chuckle emanated from within, devoid of all mirth. 'Henry is not here,' the voice sneered.