Brock enters the
building slowly, cautiously, sniffing as he goes. The air inside is
stale, musty even, certainly undisturbed for quite some time.
“Hello?” he calls a
third time, “Anybody here?”
Silence is his answer.
The door opens to a long entrance hallway, with two more doors on
either side at the far end, an old grandfather clock facing him.
Midway along the left wall stands a hat tree, a bettered umbrella
hanging from one of its branches. Opposite the tree is a large,
ornate mirror.
Brock takes his agent's
block from his pocket, taps it twice, then studies the changes to
its' grain and dispersal of knots.
“Hmmm,” he mutters
to himself before walking down to the door on the left.
