The Ledger of Sins

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2026-06-21 10:56:24 -

The fog came down on London like a shroud on the twelfth of January, 1887. It rolled off the Thames in thick yellow sheets, swallowing the gas lamps whole and leaving the East End a world of shadows and damp stone. Jimmy Harlow pulled his collar tight against the cold and walked the narrow streets between Wapping and Ratcliff, his boots splashing through puddles that reflected nothing at all....

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