My son went down after his death. ‘You! Have you pen and paper?’ ‘Pen and paper now, is it?’ grumbled the old man as he shuffled down the hall. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. This smile warned the doctor not to underestimate the man. I've left mine on the spikes of the New Prison, and must borrow yours. He was the Napoleon of knavery, and established an uncontrolled empire over all the practitioners of crime.
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