The Distant Legend
The ledger sat in Arthur Vane’s hands, the leather cover slick with the damp that seeped through the mill walls. He was thirty years old, a clerk from the west who had come to Blackwood with nothing but a coat, a suitcase, and a debt of four hundred pounds owed to a dead man’s estate. The want was simple: a permanent position in the accounts room, enough to clear his father’s name and secure a...
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