The Undertaker's Vow
The fog rolled off the Thames like a shroud, thick and yellow with coal smoke, when Arthur Blackwood stood over the coffin and refused to bow to the living. It was November, 1857, and the cemetery behind St. Jude's Church in Whitechapel had been full since morning. Seven paupers, buried together in a pit that smelled of wet earth and something worse. Arthur had performed the rites—the old...
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