The dark abruptly became even darker – something which Margaret had not thought possible. She could hear objects audibly solidifying around her. "This sucks," she commented aloud.

"You can say that again," commented a deep mysterious voice from the depths of the darkness.

Scared by the abrupt intrusion of the mysterious voice, Margaret obliged. "This sucks."

"I was only speaking figuratively," the voice stated, still lurking in the darkness – not that it really had any choice as there was a complete absence of light.

"Sorry." Margaret was silent for a moment. [Though she was careful not to allow the moment to transform itself into a pregnant pause as she had no desire for it to give birth in such sinister surroundings.] The moment finished with, Margaret asked, "Who are you?" as she hoped that the voice actually belonged to someone rather than be a disembodied voice that enjoyed dwelling in darkness.

"Ah yes," muttered the voice to itself, "it's dark isn't it?"

Margaret was glad that the voice was addressing itself as she had no desire to answer a question with such an obvious answer – not that anything could really be obvious due to the darkness. "Who are you?" She repeated her previous question, in the dim hope that this time it would be answered. [You need to keep in mind that her hope could be nothing but dim due to the lack of light. It was nothing to do with hope's level of intelligence.]

"Just a moment," the voice said. It then muttered some words under its breath which Margaret couldn't understand.

Suddenly, a faint light flickered next to Margaret. A slender candle had started to burn. Then, as she watched, more candles apparently lit themselves, until her surroundings were enveloped in a comforting yellow light. Relieved to be free of the insidious blackness, Margaret looked around. The room she was standing in was immense and was furnished in such a way that it wouldn't look out of place in a gothic mansion which was probably just as well as that was where it was located. At the far end of the room sweeping staircase swept down from the first floor.

"Is that better?" asked the voice from somewhere above Margaret.

"Yes thank you," Margaret said, still remembering her manners despite the unusual situation she was in. [When Margaret had been a child, her mother had always said, "Politeness is what politeness does" which had never made any real sense to Margaret but she tried to always be polite just in case it did have some real-world significance.] "Who are you?" she repeated, yet again – so much for those pickled onions she had eaten at lunchtime.

"Up here," instructed the voice. Margaret looked up at the top of the staircase, which was still sweeping, to where some tendrils of darkness still entwined themselves lovingly around the banisters. A mysterious figure gently disentangled itself from the embrace of the dark tendrils and stepped into the candlelight. The figure was that of a tall man with pale skin and a shock of black hair that fled in all directions as if trying to escape his head. His clothes were black which made the pallid nature of his features more striking. He smiled faintly when he saw that Margaret had seen him. Bowing deeply, he said, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Count Frederick Von Schnapp."