The Golden Suspect
The ledger is not a book of numbers, Thomas. It is a book of weights." Mr. Hale’s voice was low, barely rising above the clatter of the steam engine in the boiler room below, where the air tasted of coal dust and wet wool. I stood on the tip-toes of my boots, trying to see over the high shelf where the estate’s records were kept, my hands stained black with the same ink that had ruined my apron...
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