The Pale Letter
The letter lay on the oak desk, its seal unbroken, the wax a pale, sickly yellow that seemed to absorb the light from the single tallow candle. I did not open it. I knew what it contained, even before the clerk had finished his peroration about the irregularities in my ledger and the necessity of a formal inquiry. I was a man of numbers, of margins and balances, but I had always been blind to...
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