The Golden Quest
The letter lay on the desk, the ink still wet, the signature of the estate lawyer a jagged scrawl that looked less like a name and more like a tear in the paper. Arthur Vane did not read it immediately; instead, he held the envelope up to the weak October light, feeling the weight of the parchment, the slight give of the cardstock, and the faint, chemical smell of old binding glue that seemed...
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