The Distant Clue
The black moth lands on the silver rim of the soup tureen, its wings folded tight against the polished metal, and Arthur Vane watches it for a long, steady moment before he lifts the spoon to stir the broth. The banquet hall of the Ironworks Charity Ballroom is thick with the smell of roasted goose and wet wool, a suffocating mix that seems to cling to the high, beamed ceilings where the...
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