The Distant Clue
The rain lashed against the slate roof of the house on Elm Street, a relentless, rhythmic drumming that seemed to mimic the hammering of Thomas Vane’s own heart. He sat in the study, the room thick with the scent of stale tobacco and the damp wool of his greatcoat, which he had not yet removed. Across the desk, Inspector Elias Thorne stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his posture...
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