The Distant Promise
The train took Thomas Bradshaw away at half past five. Ashworth stood on the platform with his hat in his hands. Bradshaw leaned from the last carriage. The gaslight made his face a pale coin. Sign that inquest, Bradshaw said, and you sign yourself. The ledger is the gallows, Edward. You are its keeper. Ashworth gave no answer. He watched the couplings tighten. He watched the sparks fall along...
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