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Ghosts in the Telegraph
The telegraph office had been locked for hours. The operator had finished the evening transmissions, extinguished the lamps, and carried the day’s messages home beneath his coat. No one remained at the desk, and no hand rested on the polished brass key. Yet sometime after midnight, the sounder began to move. Click. Pause. Click-click. The night watchman stopped outside the door and listened. He knew enough code to recognize that the pattern was not random. The tapping repeate

T.L. Duncan
Sep 1611 min read
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