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A bald, plump, and typically pompous looking butler stood in the open doorway, looking him up and down,
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Windburn,” spat James, “James Windburn. I have a meeting with Mr Thurst. Bloody hell man, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

The butler rolled his eyes,
“Sorry, sir,” he sighed, “Please, do come in...”

Once inside, the sheer splendour of the foyer hit James like a golden carriage. His eyes practically popped out his head and bounced around the room like pin-balls from one precious detail to another: a giant, white, mink rug; a five tier, gold and diamond chandelier; an enormous, white, marble fireplace with a sculpted mantel, depicting a life-sized, open-mouthed lion, pinning down a helpless gazelle.
“Un - be - lievable...” mouthed James.
“Pardon, sir,” sniffed the butler, taking his umbrella, “Did you say something?”
“I... er... Well, from the outside you would never guess.”
“One shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover, sir.”
“Yes,” nodded James,“Yes, yes indeed...”


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