The Distant Blade
"Show me the gear," the Inspector said. His voice was flat. A wire pulled taut. I placed the brass wheel on the table. It was small. No larger than a coin. It was cold to the touch. I had felt it for weeks. It was always cold. "You made this?" he asked. "Yes, sir." "Where did the metal come from?" "I bought the scrap." "From whom?" "Mr. Hale. At the yard." The Inspector looked at me. He did not...
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