The Wistful Witness
The letter lay on the mahogany desk, the ink still wet and glistening like a fresh wound, and Arthur Vane stared at the signature at the bottom until the name Dr. Halloway blurred into a smear of black ink. It was a refusal, written in the precise, angular script of a man who believed that order was the only defense against chaos, and it denied Arthur access to the restricted archive where the...
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