The Steam Engineer's Requiem
The marble bathtub was cold against Edgar Winterworth's back, even through the water. Twelve minutes. He had held his breath for twelve full minutes in the Chelsea Gas Baths, and the thin record card he kept in his pocket had been updated with a single, trembling figure. He pushed himself up from the bottom, water cascading off his pale shoulders like rain off a cathedral roof, and gasped in...
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