The Pale Mist
It is a forgery, Director Halloway said, setting the leather-bound volume on the mahogany desk with a thud that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards and into my own teeth. "Or a very expensive prank, Mr. Thorne. One that I will not tolerate in my office." I stood there, my hands still trembling from the cold walk up the hill, and looked at the book. It was my father’s ledger, the one he...
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