The Faded Alibi

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2026-08-22 14:01:32 -

The Faded Alibi

The ink in my ledger was still wet when I first saw the red line, a thin, jagged scar running through the columns of the estate’s solvency. It was November of 1912, and the air in the Blackwood study smelled of damp wool and the decaying sweetness of Lord Blackwood’s failing lungs. I am Arthur Vane, a junior clerk, thirty years old, and I had spent the last three years polishing the silver of...

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