@page { margin-bottom: 2.000000pt; margin-top: 2.000000pt; } Chapter Eighteen A half-hour later and Gorge’s Antique Emporium would have been locked up for the night. We walked in to find Gorge amid antique furniture and display cabinets, chatting to two customers as he wrote them a receipt. He glanced up, smiled, looked back at his customers; then the tan leached from his face as his brain registered exactly who came in his shop. So demons blanched. I was gathering so much information for Lynn. Paler with each passing second, he chatted with his clients in a stilted way as he walked them to the door. He shut it, flipped the sign and pulled down the blind to let prospective customers know he had closed the shop. He turned to us and clasped his hands at his waist as he looked at Royal. I don’t think he even noticed me. He dropped his hands to his sides and bowed over, held the pose a few seconds, and straightened up. “My Lord?” My Lord? Royal got right to the point. “Do you know the whereabouts of Lawrence Marchant?”
