The Distant Clue
The letter lay on the kitchen table, its edges curling like dead leaves, the ink a stark black against the cheap, yellowed paper. It was from the solicitor, Mr. Halloway, informing me that the autumn auction for the Blackwood Estate was set for the fourteenth of October, and that I, as the custodian of the mill’s deed, had to produce the document or face the seizure of my own pension. I had...
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