It was a study, book-lined. Addington was standing next to another, younger man. “Mr. Ellis,” he said, coming forward with his hand out. “It is an honor, at last. You are taller than I realized. This is my secretary, Mr. Feaver.” The other man took Henry’s hand. He was blond, with a moustache. “Good day, sir,” he said, in a strong London accent.
