The Faded Alibi
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray sheet that turned the cobblestones of the old quarter into a mirror of mud and shadow, and I stood at the window of my study, watching the water slide down the glass in long, trembling threads that looked like the sweat of a dying man, while my own hand, the right one, lay still on the mahogany desk, a heavy, red-weighted thing that...
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