The Golden Quest
The rain had not stopped in Harrow’s Hollow for three days, turning the quarry floor into a slurry of black mud and broken limestone. Arthur Vane stood before the office door, his knuckles white as he gripped the handle, the cold seeping through his work gloves. Inside, the warmth of the gas lamp and the smell of pipe tobacco made the air feel thick, almost solid. He pushed the door open. The...
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