The Distant Crown
Arthur Vane’s hand was already on the iron latch, slick with rain, when the door of Harrowgate Manor groaned open before he could turn the key. He did not hesitate. He stepped over the threshold, the smell of wet rot and old paper hitting him harder than the cold, and pulled the door shut behind him with a finality that echoed through the empty foyer. The house was dark, save for the lightning...
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