I, Vincent Quiller was subject and indeed, very much involved in the case of the gruesome and mysterious happening at the Loffemoore Manor. Many have already labeled myself as a victim, although whether I deserve this title is the task of other minds. It has become my current station to relay all details and lesser known facts about this unfortunate affair, as well as to provide the literate world with a clear and unbiased narrative of the things I witnessed and experienced that dismal autumn season. I have been appointed to state the facts and dispel the heavy fog of confusion, so to speak, that surrounds the Manor to this day.
On the twelfth of August, I received a letter from an acquaintance, Henry Loffemoore. I was not a gentlemen of a very high standing, but I had encountered the young Mr. Henry Loffemoore that summer, and he had politely taken an interest in myself. In the letter I received, he cordially invited me to his abode, for he was shortly to be off to London and wished me to be one of his party. Although he was not a very intimate confidante of mine, he steadily entreated me to accept his invitation and, loathe to offend, I at last agreed. I reluctantly packed my trunk and headed to the Loffemoore Manor. It was a grand, if rather dark and somber house. Within, there was a large group of young ladies and gentlemen there assembled, most of whom originated from the very pinnacles of society and were clearly much wealthier than myself. I felt awkward and out of spirits, which was often the case with myself in large company. Henry, who knew my disposition, often berated me to be a 'more jolly, sociable fellow'. I tried my best, but failed most acutely, I'm afraid. I was on the verge of finding an excuse to quite the party and return home, but Henry insisted that if I would not go to London that I would at least station myself at the Loffemoore Manor instead of returning home to my 'dreary, little old house hidden away from the world' as he so put it. Repentant of my characteristic failings, I agreed. Henry had always been of an almost fitful nature, inclined to a great deal of impulsive and sporadic behavior, and I believe he was relieved he would not need to trouble himself with the well-being of his eccentric friend while on his London trip. Henry also mildly requested that I train an attentive eyes on his elderly father, who, as I had heard was quite the eccentric himself. The entire party left two days afterward. I was immensely grateful to be relieved of the constant tittering of the ladies and endless obligations and invitations I could not possibly accept. In the peaceful quiet, I soon became acquainted with the rest of the household, which was much more to my taste.
Mr. Arthur Loffemoore, or Old Man Arthur as the servant addressed him, lived alone, with only his household staff for company. There was John, the cook, who preferred to stay chained to the stove rather than involve himself in society. The true head of the household was none other than Mrs. Egreshton, who conducted every single affair of household business and was the more or less absolute authority when it came to the care-taking of the Loffemoore Manor. Personally, I did not often see her, as she was a capable and frequently engaged woman. It seemed to me that no one often saw her, and she bustled from place to place with a quick step and gave orders in a curt and swift manner. The majority of the maids looked upon me as nothing more than another set of bed linens sullied, and paid me little or no attention whatsoever. There was an exception however, to the household's general ignorance of my existence. Patricia Thuman, one of the maids, was a bright, intelligent young lady whose friendly acquaintance I enjoyed making almost at once. Many might have thought the friendship imprudent, but as I was hardly a gentleman of any large consequence and she a well-mannered, kind girl; I thought nothing of it. I had been at the Loffemoore Manor for nearly a week before Mr. Arthur Loffemoore saw it fit to introduce himself. He was a man of three and sixty years of age, a sharp-thinking fellow with an intense demeanor. I could discern from his stature that he had once been a very impressive man, and his icy blue eyes could still distill fear into a heart with ease. I thought something rather off-balanced about the gentleman, but he was obliging and courteous enough. I soon became a steady companion to the elder man, as he enjoyed my companion and often called for me to play chess with him in the evenings. I suspect that the elder gentleman must have been exceedingly lonely, and I was glad to ease his troubles. He courteously invited me to make the fullest use of the Manor's library, at which I was immensely thrilled. Miss Patricia -or Patty as she was often called- was my ever complacent companion, and I often spent some time with her in pleasant conversation. In all, I was quite comfortable at the Loffemoore Manor, and while the excellently stocked library remained within its doors, I was happy to also remain.