The Distant Summer
The train to Blackwood Hall rattled through the Yorkshire moors in a rhythm that seemed to mock the steady beat of Elias Thorne’s heart, a mechanical pulse that did not care for the trembling in his hands, which began to shake the moment he uncapped the inkwell to write his wife’s name on the travel permit. He was a sergeant of the constabulary, a man who had broken down doors and held men down...
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