Chapter Seven
Mr. Maximilian Goldstein lived in a large city mansion on the south shore of Lake Sherrat. It was a monstrously sized building made from honey-coloured limestone, its front peppered with enormous windows and richly decorated with slender pilasters, statues, and other absurdities. Inside it contained in the environs of fifty rooms and required a staff of twelve to keep its domestic affairs running smoothly.
All of which was ridiculous, Cas reflected, given that his father had been living there alone for the past fifteen years.
He stood in the gathering dusk after he’d rung the doorbell, trying not to feel nervous. The house’s impressive frontage was illuminated by bright, clear electric lights, and he felt thoroughly insignificant as he stood there, dwarfed beneath the mans
