The sun had been down for hours when the office door snapped open and the visitor scurried in unannounced, “We think we’ve found the Book of the North.”
The man behind the desk looked up and silently evaluated the statement for a moment before replying, “Where?”
“Lincoln, Maine. . .” The man behind the desk contemplated this information, “Is it hidden?”
“We’ve taken the usual precautions.”
“Well done. Keep the Book secure and under constant surveillance. We can’t afford to lose another one.”
With the sharp click of the closing door, the visitor left as quickly as he had arrived.