The Catalyst of Blackwood Manor
The rain had not ceased for seventeen days. It fell upon the moors like a judgment, turning dirt roads to sucking mud and stone walls to weeping monoliths. But this was not the Yorkshire moors of old. This was 1925, and the rain fell on a different world entirely. The carriage had become a Packard touring car, its leather seats worn by the journey from Chicago, where Captain Edmund Ashworth had...
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