The Ledger of the Marsh
I took the contract on a Tuesday in November. The envelope contained three things: a photograph of a young man with thin features and dark hair, a sum of one hundred pounds in advance, and a single sentence from Horace Pendelton of Pendelton Textiles: "Find him. Track him. Do not worry about the method." I did not worry about methods. Methods were what I had spent the last five years...
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