The Distant Clue
The Grand Meridian stood in the center of the shop, a monolith of brass and dark oak that seemed to swallow the light from the high, dust-mottled windows. Elias Thorne, his hands trembling with a fatigue that sleep could no longer cure, adjusted the loupe over his eye and stared into the clock’s exposed chest. The mechanism was silent. It had been silent for three days, ever since Arthur’s...
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