The Golden Mirror

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2026-08-19 14:37:38 -

The Golden Mirror

The coat was red. Not a deep crimson, nor a bloodstain red, but a bright, aggressive scarlet that seemed to vibrate against the gray slush of the London streets. It hung on the hook by the door of the small, dusty flat in Soho, a splash of violence in a room full of muted tones. Arthur Penhaligon stared at it. He had been staring at it for three days. "You're being ridiculous, Artie," said his...

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