The Faded Quadrant
Act I Did you ever see a face in the brass that wasn’t yours? I ask because the mirror in the customs house at the Ferry Slip, number one hundred and nine, has a way of holding onto things. It was a question Chief Inspector Halloway asked me, ten years ago, when I was still just a clerk with ink on my fingers and a hunger in my belly that no amount of coffee could sate. He did not answer it. He...
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