Chapter 12: Settling InLocated at its rear, there was a small, private, and concealed room inside my study. It had a single key. I kept the silver key on me most of the time. When I didn’t have it on me, I hid it inside a hollowed-out Michael Cunningham novel called The Hours among a collection of queer hardback books on a narrow shelf outside its entry door. To get to the door, I had to push on a secret panel/bookshelf (floor-to-ceiling in height) of hardback adventure books and wait as the plane of wood/door spun around in a semi-circle. A space of sixteen inches opened like a hungry mouth and left me to peer at the familiar and shadowy door behind it. Minimal space allowed my upright and slim body to stand inside the narrow, closet-like compartment. I moved forward, stepped inside, and
