The Distant Clue
The air in the Grand Hall of the Whitmore Institute for Advanced Cognitive Mechanics did not smell of dust or old paper, as one might expect in a place dedicated to the preservation of the past, but rather of ozone, heated copper, and the sharp, metallic tang of high-voltage electricity that seemed to hum in the very marrow of the floorboards. Margaret Holloway stood alone in the center of the...
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