The Golden Cellar
The ledger was heavier than it looked, its leather cover swollen with damp and the weight of decades, and I held it in my hands as if it were a live thing that might bite, the pages stiff with the rot of the cellar floor where it had lain hidden for thirty years. I am Thomas Ashworth, a clerk of modest means and lesser spirits, and for the last six months I have lived in the shadow of a debt...
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