The Golden Cellar
The envelope was thick, cream-colored, and smelled faintly of the lavender water used to dampen the warden’s linen. Arthur Vane sat at the head of the long mahogany table in the warden’s private dining room, a place he had not entered in three years. The paper in his hand was a formal invitation, printed in gold leaf, announcing the annual harvest supper. He did not read it twice. He knew its...
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