The Distant Threshold
The banquet hall of the St. Jude’s University Faculty Club smelled of roasted pheasant, stale cigar smoke, and the metallic tang of spilled claret. It was a suffocating scent, a heavy curtain that draped over every conversation, every clink of crystal against porcelain. Professor Arthur Penhaligon sat at the far end of the long mahogany table, his back to the wall, his eyes fixed on the door as...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 4 Views 0 Anteprima