The Faded Frontier
The warrant was forged, Thorne knew, but the ink was genuine, and the signature of the Chief Inspector was indistinguishable from the real thing. “Is that all?” asked the boy, his voice thin against the roar of the wind outside. He stood by the rusted bulkhead of the boiler, shivering in a coat that had seen better decades. Thorne did not look up from the ledger he had found wedged behind a...
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