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    A Light in the Window
    A Light in the Window
    A Light in the Window
    Ebook69 pages1 hour

    A Light in the Window

    By M.L. Humphrey

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    About this ebook

    “Where’s Malcolm?” the old man growls impatiently.
    “In the back” Eduardo calmly replies closing the ledger before him. “He is ready for you.” Eduardo beckons for another to take his place and then leads the old man down a dimly lit side corridor to the back of the building.
    When they reach the end of the corridor Eduardo holds a door open motioning the old man into a large office overly stuffed with items of all shapes and purposes; one pile is so loaded it nearly reaches the ceiling. A single window against the further wall is partly obscured, barely illuminates the shadowy interior; the only other light is from a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, its shade badly browned with age.
    There is a soft click behind him as Eduardo closes the door seemingly leaving the old man alone within the dusty darkness. The old man stares around him, irritably stifling a sneeze as the overpowering smell of ancient things assaults his nostrils.
    “Don’t make me wait Malcolm!” he menacingly calls out.
    “And what would you be wanting of me?” an older but equally strong voice calls from the within the mass of items stacked and stored in every conceivable place available. “I have many great treasurers to offer...” the voice continues as the old man searches through the dimness, “...gathered from all the corners of the known and unknown world. Just look around, I’m sure there’s something that would interest a man of your great stature.”
    The old man follows the sound of the voice to the further corner where an even older looking man sits behind an equally old and worn out dusty wooden desk. The desk’s top is nearly empty and about the only unencumbered surface to be found in the place. The person behind the desk looks more like a gnome then his name implies. A short bushy white beard contrasts his bald pate and a pair wire rimmed glasses make his intense blue eyes look even larger than they really are.
    “And you are Malcolm” the old man ground out with a grunt; not as a question, but a statement of fact.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherM.L. Humphrey
    Release dateOct 10, 2016
    ISBN9781370769025
    A Light in the Window
    Author

    M.L. Humphrey

    Hi there Sci Fi fans, my name is Maurice Humphrey.I am a Vermont native, husband, father, grandfather, well over 60, Navy veteran, retired IBM engineer, retired printer repairman, Graduated: Goddard Jr. College, VT Technical College, and Trinity College. Over the years I’ve written technical articles, taught technical classes, and presented at technical conventions.I’ve been reading science fiction for over 50 years now. First books were “Journey to the Centre of the Earth” by Jules Verne and “The Stars Are Ours” by Andre Norton. I’ve read and collected many great stories, and a considerable amount of junk ones as well. I’d say by now that I probably have a good idea of what I consider a good story.

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      Book preview

      A Light in the Window - M.L. Humphrey

      A Light in the Window

      By M. L. Humphrey

      Copyright © 2016

      ISBN: 9781370769025

      All Rights Reserved

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      All of the names and places are purely figments of the author’s imagination and in no way refer to any real person, place, or thing.

      Cover art copyright of the author, © 2016 Maurice Humphrey. All images used are personal property of the author.

      Please visit my blog at [ TheCornishTalisman.blogspot.com ].

      A Light in the Window

      On a cold day in late March a well dressed older man carrying a large bundle walked into the Apex Pawn Shop on the lower east side of Manhattan. Ding! the door bell went as it bounced on its spring hanging from the wall. The soft screech of un-oiled hinges cut through the stillness of the nearly empty room as the door swung shut behind him; except for the attendants he finds himself the only customer.

      The old man looks around the cluttered interior of the pawn shop as a puddle of water begins to gather beneath his snow covered shoes. With a mutter of disgust he stamps his feet on the tiled floor by the door. He made an imposing figure as he caught the sight of Eduardo, the counter attendant.

      Eduardo briefly glances up as the old man brushes the newly fallen snow from the shoulders of his coat. He notes the sharp chiseled facial features of the man and mutters something under his breath as he presses a button beneath the counter. A little light turns on in reply as he continues working with the ledger before him. A shuffling across the worn carpet is followed by a loud thud as the old man drops his bundle on the counter and stares down ominously at the younger man across from him.

      Where’s Malcolm? the old man growls impatiently.

      In the back Eduardo calmly replies closing the ledger before him. He is ready for you. Eduardo beckons for another to take his place and then leads the old man down a dimly lit side corridor to the back of the building.

      When they reach the end of the corridor Eduardo holds a door open motioning the old man into a large office overly stuffed with items of all shapes and purposes; one pile is so loaded it nearly reaches the ceiling. A single window against the further wall is partly obscured, barely illuminates the shadowy interior; the only other light is from a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, its shade badly browned with age.

      There is a soft click behind him as Eduardo closes the door seemingly leaving the old man alone within the dusty darkness. The old man stares around him, irritably stifling a sneeze as the overpowering smell of ancient things assaults his nostrils.

      Don’t make me wait Malcolm! he menacingly calls out.

      And what would you be wanting of me? an older but equally strong voice calls from the within the mass of items stacked and stored in every conceivable place available. I have many great treasurers to offer… the voice continues as the old man searches through the dimness, …gathered from all the corners of the known and unknown world. Just look around, I’m sure there’s something that would interest a man of your great stature.

      The old man follows the sound of the voice to the further corner where an even older looking man sits behind an equally old and worn out dusty wooden desk. The desk’s top is nearly empty and about the only unencumbered surface to be found in the place. The person behind the desk looks more like a gnome then his name implies. A short bushy white beard contrasts his bald pate and a pair wire rimmed glasses make his intense blue eyes look even larger than they really are.

      And you are Malcolm the old man ground out with a grunt; not as a question, but a statement of fact.

      Yes Mr. Bentwell the gnome crookedly grins back, I am indeed Malcolm.

      From behind his desk Malcolm studies the old man standing before him and, with only a quick glance, the large sack now sitting like a lump on the thread worn carpet beside his feet. Hopefully he hadn’t betrayed too much interest in his glance; but then again the several messages they had exchanged leading up to this visit had been most interesting to say the least.

      I don’t want to get rid of it! the old man said stubbornly.

      But I have many treasures you might also be interested in Malcolm made an expansive gesture to include the whole room, and this is my personal collection? You could have…

      Enough! the old man bellowed shaking his head to clear it from the spell being woven by the litany of Malcolm’s words.

      Then what do you want Mr. Bentwell? Malcolm dryly asked as he leaned back in his chair smiling back at the old man. Or should I call you Russell Crown?

      The person standing before Malcolm was indeed Russell Crown. The man hiding behind the name of Bentwell was not your ordinary upper crust person. Although a rich and powerful person Russell Crown preferred to stay in the shadows playing the big names of finance and industry like pieces on a chess

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