The Wistful Voyage
The rain fell in sheets. It hammered the tin roof. Silas Vane wiped the counter. The wood was slick. His hands trembled. They always trembled now. The cold bit his bones. He looked at the door. It swung open. A gust of wind followed the man in. The man was tall. He wore a coat of black wool. The coat was soaked. It dripped on the floor. The man smiled. It was a thin smile. It cut the air. "Good...
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