The Fog at Westminster Bridge
The Fog at Westminster BridgeAct IThe fog that November morning had the consistency of wet wool, heavy enough to press against the skin and thick enough to swallow a man whole. Eleanor Worthington woke with a start, her cheek pressed to the cold stone of the embankment wall, the Thames' dark waters lapping at the hem of her borrowed shawl.Three days. She had been missing for three days.The last...
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