The Pale Bridge
The letter was thin, the paper cheap and brown at the edges, bearing the seal of the Magistrate’s office. Elias Thorne read it twice, his fingers trembling not from cold, but from the weight of the ink. It denied his petition. It called his testimony hysteria. It ordered his detention for fraud. Outside the window of his small, drafty study, the gaslights of Harrowgate were being lit, one by...
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