The Golden Harbor
The letter lay on the damp flagstones, its edges curling in the stagnant air of the cellar, the ink of the bank’s foreclosure notice bleeding into the parchment where the condensation from the stone walls had seeped through. Thomas Hale, his constable’s uniform torn at the shoulder and his face a map of fresh bruises, stared at the document as if it were a death warrant, the specific threat of...
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