The Club of Shadows
The invitation arrived on a Tuesday, wrapped in cream-colored paper sealed with black wax. It bore no name, only an address in Mayfair and a time—eight o'clock—and a single line of instruction: Come alone. Come curious. Come ready to see what lies behind the curtain. I was twenty-six and foolish enough to believe that curiosity was a virtue rather than a fatal flaw. Arthur Pemberton, Cambridge...
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