I still continue to thrive.

It seems to me that this may be a fine time to remind people of my continued existence, to inspire fear into my enemies’ guts, lust in the loins of the most attractive of the womenfolk, and joy in the hearts of my staunchest supporters.

The halfwit Twelves, who is supposed to be chronicling my exploits, has recently been released from the Holloway Sanatorium now that his opium quivers have ended, and has resumed his doodlings. Luckily for him, I had not been able to find a similar artist to take his place.

Mostly as I have been lurking in London’s sewers for the last two months staking out some anarchist plot by the Weekaday Gang, or somesuch.

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