The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-20 18:06:30 -

The banquet hall of the Whitmore estate smelled of roasting pheasant and damp wool, a thick, cloying mixture that hung in the air like a fog that refused to lift. Colonel Arthur Whitmore stood at the head of the long mahogany table, his face a mask of rigid propriety, while his hands, hidden beneath the crisp white cuffs of his uniform, trembled with a violence that no amount of polished...

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