The chambermaid hurried back inside the house, cutting out the rain and wind.

She crouched down to the groaning, shivering body of Thomas, checking his wound.

"It looks pretty mad..." she murmured to him, checking the constant flow of blood from the neck.

"Is...is Balthazar..." Thomas whispered, unable to finish the sentence.

"Yes, in the grave. What do we do with him?"

"Two birds with one stone, I think. Fill it in, have a tombstone arranged for it. Here lies...Penelope Lane,"

The chambermaid stopped, surprised.

"Why ever would we write that?"

"It's an old joke..." Thomas explained, before correcting himself. "A new joke...don't bother with a doctor, my dear. My time has come...yes, time...it's over for me. Good morning, my dear...good morning,"