The Pale Meridian
"You are either a fool or a criminal, Vane. I cannot tell which, and it is becoming irrelevant." The sound of Thomas Bradshaw’s voice hit Arthur Vane like a physical blow, sharp and cold against the glass of the office window. Outside, the white heron in the iron aviary thrashed against the bars, a frantic blur of white feathers and black beak, its wings beating a desperate, rhythmic thud...
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