The Apartment on Faustus Street.
The apartment had two entrances, one either side of the nondescript pink-lit establishment below, which it straddled like a railway footbridge. In past lives these had been used as ‘In’ and ‘Out’, but for its present purpose only the former was necessary. People did leave, of course, but he knew that once they had met him – and once they had struck their own particular bargain – they were his forever. A small window display presented a magical mix of lights, smoke and mirrors; and in promising exactly what his clients wanted to see, it was a hook that seldom failed.