The Faded Frontier
The indictment lay on the stone floor, a scrap of parchment stained with the grease of the warden’s fingers, detailing a sum of four hundred pounds owed for the upkeep of a prisoner who had not paid his rent. Gilbert Wickham read it, then folded it into a square no larger than a playing card, and placed it beneath the hem of the white dress that hung from the ceiling hook like a shroud. He was...
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