The servant opened the door to the landing, and a long shadow slid across the stairwell.
Charles Hood adjusted his silk cravat, flashed the servant a radiant smile, said goodbye, and stepped out of the apartment.
The door behind him closed quietly. Hood thought that Esprit LeBoeur—the owner of the apartment he had just left—had turned out to possess priceless treasures, which, of course, testified to the vast means at his disposal. Hood had come in the absence of the owner on purpose, hoping to take a look at the collection of his paintings. After all, time and again, millionaires bought God knows what…