I showed the last guest to the round table and took my place by the door. The room was dark with night and closed drapes, the sole light a flickering candle in the table’s center.

“Join hands and chant: ‘Come forth, Madame DeFarge. Come forth,’” Mr. Belvedere implored the four.

As they chanted, my boss, Mr. Belvedere, nodded to me to fetch the drinks as previously requested. Just as I exited, I heard a woman’s voice gleefully call behind me: “Five pretties? Let’s have you.” I whipped back in.

The room was empty, the extinguished candle the only movement.