This is it, then: the waterworks, the gentleman's closet, la chambre sensible. In a word, the lavatory. A lone dilapidated sconced candle illuminates the tiny room with its sparse furnishings - a creaking radiator, an iron mirror caked with rust, and of course an antiquated toilet.

There isn't a lot to see, but as you prepare to return to the antechamber, something catches your eye. A loose tile; how peculiar.

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