To the Letter

Начало книги

Above Hillowen a tiny bell pinged a cracked F, reprising the note a moment later as he gently closed the door behind him. The basement room in which he found himself was divided by a tall counter of blackened wood, behind which were a bead-curtained door and shelves bearing rows of very old ledgers. The single window did not quite reach footpath level, and as a result the light which filtered into the room was tired and grey, the colour of January rain.

Whoever owns this place should apply for a grant to go Dickensian, Hillowen thought. It doesn’t look much like a threshold of earthly bliss, but I suppose it’s best to stay shabby in this part of town if you don’t want to attract too much attention. He tapped on the counter, waited, then tapped more firmly.

The bead curtains chattered and from behind them came a small, elderly, dapper man with brown eyes and a pleasantly ugly face. He advanced with a friendly smile, placed his fingertips on the counter and gave a courteous little bow.

Читать дальше →