The Distant Clue
The fog lay thick on the Thames, a white shroud that swallowed the spires of Westminster and blurred the line between the water and the sky. You stood on the gangplank of the HMS *Perseverance*, the wood slick beneath your boots, watching the city recede into a gray murk. It was the year 1842, and the air tasted of coal smoke and salt, a bitter mixture that coated the back of your throat. You...
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