The Distant Clue
The rain fell upon the cobblestones of the old city square in a rhythm that sounded like the ticking of a broken clock, a relentless, wet percussion that seemed to synchronize with the pounding in Silas Vane’s temples. He stood beneath the awning of the apothecary, his fingers twitching against the leather of his satchel, waiting for the sensation to cease. It had started at dawn, a sharp,...
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