CHAPTER 25: THE NINE UNKNOWN MEN
It was, Virgil thought to himself, a thoroughly miserable room. It was small and cramped, the walls painted a shade of grey that was a close cousin to black, the thick curtains not so much screening sunlight as suffocating it in heavy dusty folds. His translucent eyes could pick out the motes of dust dancing through a single ray of sunlight and that was all. Then Mariana reached out and tugged the curtain to one side, and the room was swallowed in darkness.
Virgil, standing right beside the table, heard the gust of air and the tiny gasp that told him someone had shifted into being just under it, hidden by the green table cloth. He smiled to himself, and glanced briefly around to make sure no one else had noticed it. The senses of the people in this room were very acute to such things. That was why he had decided to stand near the table. He knew they would not want to talk with him, or even stand near him. In this way, he gave Marie the best chance she could have of not being discovered.