The Wistful Cipher
Edmund Pemberton-Steele had spent the better part of his career translating dead languages for the British Library, coaxing meaning from the marginalia of manuscripts that predated the Anglo-Saxon invasions. But it was the living script he could not read: the letter that arrived on a Tuesday in November, seventeen years after his great-aunt Eleanor Vane had locked it in a copy of Freud's...
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