The Distant Clue
The mud of the road to St. Jude’s was not merely wet; it was a living thing, thick and black, swallowing the soles of Elias Vane’s boots with a sound like a slow exhale. He was forty years old, a scholar of the university at Oxford, and he was dying. The cough had started three years ago, a dry rattle in the chest that had since evolved into a wet, hacking assault that turned his head white...
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