It was pouring. Amelie stepped into the safety of the doorway, throwing off her navy cape hood with gusto and pressing a pale, polished finger against the doorbell, which rung loudly. She waited, straining her neck to catch a glimpse of the interior but to no avail. As she was about to ring the bell again the great door swung open and a tall, bony man with a long face peered at her with beady eyes. "Yes?" he said gravelly. "I've been invited to dine tonight at this address. Am I late?" she asked, pushing her wet hair from her eyes. The man seemed to roll his eyes and merely shaked his head, stepping aside to let her pass. "Cocktails are being served in the parlor, Miss. May I take your coat?" "It's more of a cape than anything, but yes, you may," Amelie replied, shedding herself of her dripping cape and handing it to the tired-looking old man. He took it with one hand, shut the large door with the other and pointed her in the direction of the parlor, which she followed, her heels clicking against the tile floor.