The Pale Echo
The ledger lay open on the desk, its pages yellowed and stiff, and I counted the entries with a trembling finger, each sum a small weight pressing against the hollow of my chest. There were forty-two shillings missing, a gap that widened as the ink of the final entry faded into the paper’s grain, and I knew that by the time the sun dipped below the slate rooftops of Oakhaven, the magistrate’s...
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