Holmes stepped forward. As he drew nearer to the kerosene lamp, figures swathed in cloaks gradually emerged from the chairs in the three-tiered stands. They sat in their chairs; some were fiddling with rings in their hands, some were whispering to their neighbors, some were even chomping on an apple. But no matter what they were doing, their gazes were all fixed intently on Holmes.
Bowing to the surroundings, the emissary retreated backward and left the hall.
"So you are Holmes? The legendary detective recommended by Russell?"
A figure seated in one of the ten silver chairs was the first to speak.
"Indeed, it is I."
Holmes cast his gaze toward the central stand, roughly figuring out the identities of these individuals.
The internal hierarchy of the Doomsday Party was clear: the Party Chief at the top, followed by ten Gospels and twenty-four Elders, corresponding perfectly to the number of chairs.
