The Distant Threshold
The glass was not a mirror, Inspector, but a shard of the looking-glass that had hung above the mantelpiece in the parlor of the Whitmore estate when Thomas died, and you tell me it is irrelevant, that the police do not investigate the reflections of the dead, that I am a constable of thirty-four years who has spent five years chasing a ghost in the archives while the rain erodes the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews