The Faded Guest
The bill lay on the desk, the ink still wet and glistening like a fresh wound. It was a simple ledger entry, three lines of figures in a cramped, angular script that I recognized instantly as Mayor Halloway’s hand. I picked it up, the paper cold and damp in my fingers, and smelled the coppery tang of the ink before I even looked at the sum. Twelve pounds, four shillings. Thomas’s wages for the...
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