The Distant Ghost

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2026-08-23 11:50:41 -

The Distant Ghost

The autumn air on the moor was not merely cold; it was a physical weight, a suffocating blanket of dampness that settled into the marrow of Arthur Penhaligon’s bones as he stood at the precipice of the heather, his hands trembling so violently that the forged ledger in his grip felt less like paper and more like a living thing struggling to escape. At forty years of age, a clerk of the Royal...

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