The front hall of the odd, ancient building was much lighter and grander than Basil had anticipated.
“May I help you, young man?” A woman in a black blazer, her hair in a tight bun, sat behind a glass counter.
Basil forced his gaze away from the sparkling jewels encased beneath the counter. “I, uh, I’m looking for August Templetorn.”
“Third floor.” Her hand was on the receiver of an antique phone. “On the left, as I’m sure you know.”
As Basil ascended the winding stairs, he thought he heard her say, “Send out your scouts. August has caught another.”
ETA: I should probably direct you to Basil Thistlethorn Goes Left.
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