The Distant Clue
The wax of the third candle on the long oak table had melted into a pool that caught the light of the chandelier, and Elias Thorne sat with his hands folded in his lap, watching the wax drip onto the tablecloth. He was a municipal clerk, a man of forty-five years who spent his days balancing the ledgers of the town’s orphanage, and he had come to this harvest banquet in the great hall of the...
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