Set in motion and winding on, the ancient cassette recorder hummed behind me. I knew the voices on it were key to unraveling the mystery which engulfed me presently, and yet, it took great efforts to sit on the lone chair in the room and tune my ears to their tales. It felt strange, to finally find a match to those faces I had long studied and marked as the conspirers and murderers of the late Professor Jacobs. And yet, when I listened, I did not hear the voice of murderers. There wasn't the faintest trace of a homicidal tendencies in any of the three voices that chimed in and out of conversation like a haphazard ballet.