The Golden Mirror
The banquet hall of the St. Jude’s Institute of Advanced Studies smelled of burnt roasting and expensive cologne. It was a suffocating, warm heat that clung to the skin, a physical weight that pressed against the temples. Dr. Arthur Penhaligon stood by the mahogany bar, holding a glass of sherry he did not intend to drink. He watched the crowd. They moved in clusters, their voices a low,...
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