The Distant Journey
The envelope in Arthur Vane’s hand was thick with the weight of rejected paper and stale tobacco smoke. He held it up to the single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling of the office, the light catching the frayed edge of the seal. Across the desk, Mr. Sterling sat with his hands folded neatly on a stack of ledgers, his face a mask of polite impatience. The room smelled of floor wax and the...
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