Chapter 549 Ch548 An Old Acquaintance of Mason Lyle

Chapter 549 Ch.548 Mason Lyle’s old acquaintance

"Sir, please give me more."

The boy patted the carriage wall, jumped onto the carriage with a smile, and swung the reins.

Mason Lyle had managed to catch a stagecoach a few minutes earlier.

Escape from London on your own ship of hope.

tonight.

Except for this boy, no one saw his appearance - that is to say...

As long as he dies.

Maybe…

The man took off his hat and held his head against the front of the car. His two bloodshot eyeballs faced the cold wind coming from the gap and stared straight at the back of the boy driving the car...

As long as he dies...

Isn't this normal?

Cases like this happen every day in London.

Maybe it was robbery, maybe it was a murder of love or a vendetta. Who would bother to trace the cause of death of a coachman?

Mason Lyle grinned, and the bright red letter swept across the flesh between his teeth.

He chirped, tapped his knees with his index finger, and hummed happily.

Some things may seem difficult, but once you do them once, they won't be so difficult the second time.

Even after a long time, it will become your only solution to the problem.

Mason Lyle thinks this method works extremely well.

Convenient, simple and leaves no hassle.

The boy could die in the East Side, the West Side or the South Side.

No one knew that he came here and sent away a massacre with his own hands...

etc.

Mason Lyle suddenly thought of something.

wrong.

Before killing him, you have to ask...

"Yes, child. How could I not give you more? The night is so cold—I remember it was getting warmer a few days ago, isn't it? The weather in London is as changeable as a woman's mood."

If he wants to, he can definitely become the other person's friend.

Mason Lyle thinks he has the ability.

Laughter came from outside the carriage.

"That's right, sir. You are an interesting person at first sight. I had prepared to change into a thick coat a few days ago. At least I can walk easier..." From the voice, you can tell that this boy is not very old: "I was originally going to change into a thick coat a few days ago. It's supposed to be in the South District. Who knew that after walking around for half an afternoon, I didn't meet a Kuang Kuang person..."

He was chewing some candy as he spoke, and his voice was a little unclear: "Bless me, I have met you!"

Mason Lyle smirked twice and asked again: "I've never noticed, kid. Although I take the ride every day, I've never noticed - you have separate zones?"

"My friend, sir. I made an arrangement with him."

the boy answered.

"He has a lot of good things going on, and I can't just wait there stupidly."

Mason Lyle teased: "So you secretly betrayed your friend."

"'London will not treat everyone who works hard' - isn't that what they say?" The boy also gradually started to talk. He was always a talkative person, and with Mason Lyle's deliberate guidance, the two of them started chatting more and more passionately inside and outside the carriage.

They chatted about affairs and rumors, ranging from political affairs to the new popular swear words in a certain tavern.

This kid loves Mason Lyle.

He was well-dressed, but not like those clothes-wearers who look at people with the point of their chin.

"I must say, you are the most respectable gentleman I have ever met," cried the boy.

They are leaving the jungle.

Mason Lyle leaned against the carriage and closed his eyes to meditate: "Really? What I wear is not expensive."

"It's not the price, sir," the boy said. "You want to talk to me and listen to me - real talk, I mean, not the kind of answer that spits phlegm from your throat."

Mason Lyle showed a hint of disgust, but his voice was more cordial.

"Oh, then you have to give me a little less."

The boy laughed and said that would not work unless you still ride in my car tomorrow.

Mason Lyle quipped: No problem, but you're betraying your friends again.

"...those clothes racks talk about 'decent, decent' all day long, but let me tell you, sir, shouldn't the most decent behavior be to treat people like us politely?" The boy complained: "If we are gone, they You have to walk on your feet.”

Mason Lyle is disdainful.

Isn’t the world full of people like you?

Decent? To a dog?

This 'politeness' will only make other people think you are crazy.

Perhaps it was Mason Lyle's silence that made the boy keenly aware of his unspoken disapproval.

"I know that you also think we are humble, but doesn't this just show how special you are? Our queen and ministers have all said: 'Fight together with the country' - Sir, we are the strongest wheels of this country. ! The oar of the ship! The wings of the bird!"

The boy was very proud.

Indeed, as Queen Victoria said.

If the country is the car, they are the wheels. If the country is the ship, they are the oars.

‘Not human anyway. ’ Mason Lyle mocked in his heart.

Not only for this innocent child, but also for myself.

He has known the truth all too well over the years.

In this dark, smoky and bloody night, he suddenly felt a little emotional. Facing this innocent child who has not yet fallen into the hole of despair, his surging emotions pry open the gap in his heart, and it is inevitable to say a few words.

"child."

He sighed.

"Have you ever seen a bird?"

"Of course... sir?"

"Have you seen their wings?"

"Who hasn't seen it?"

"Can hard work make you grow wings like them, lift your feet off the ground, and fly into the sky?"

The boy was happy.

He would not act like a critic and write in the newspaper ‘Sophistry! ’

But he could tell that something was wrong.

It doesn't make sense.

"Sir, I said what we can do - work hard and become a big shot. But you said a bird... No matter how hard we work, who can become a bird?"

Mason Lyle rubbed his frozen face, and the peat that had accumulated in his heart for many years suddenly burst into scorching flames.

He had an unreasonable anger that was intense with every beat of his heart.

He snorted and said coldly:

"Son, you haven't figured out which is harder."

Naive, stupid.

Like…

"I don't understand, sir." The boy was not afraid of him and replied firmly: "But I know that what I said is the truth - I saw it with my own eyes and heard it with my own eyes."

"A big shot can give us this opportunity - as long as we work hard, be loyal and make no mistakes."

This makes Mason Lyle somewhat interested.

Big shot?

Isn't he a street policeman who manages a public bus station?

"Our..."

Just a second before he was about to blurt out, the boy cut off the words.

He was silent for a few seconds, no longer interested in talking.

"...I know it anyway."

The boy muttered something and steered the carriage towards the street where the lights appeared.

Mason Lyle pouted, lowered the brim of his hat, and fell asleep with the bumps.

It's a long way out of town.

It took about forty minutes...or an hour before he was woken up.

The groggy man was covered in sweat and had a nightmare that he couldn't remember.

When he was pushed awake by the boy, the cold wind had almost penetrated his long coat, and he shouted slogans about a serious illness and charged at the shirt.

"I know...I know!" He rubbed the corners of his eyes impatiently. In the dim light, there seemed to be someone on the seat opposite playing with a stick...with a shiny black silver ring...?

This is not the boy driving the car.

Mason Lyle almost jumped up from his seat and instantly pulled out the dagger hidden in the lining!

"who!"

He was terrified, fearing that instead of being caught by the police, he would be beheaded by a robber and die in a stinky ditch.

But when he saw clearly the dress of the person opposite, the panic completely disappeared.

Beautiful walking sticks don’t come cheap.

This is not the robber's... dress... wait, he seems to have seen this man before.

"...Mr. Morris?"

Mason Lyle pressed the top of his hat and sat up with his support on the board: "Maurice? Helles? Forgive me, I have been troubled recently, please don't-"

"It's Collins, Mr. Lyle." Those golden eyes that were particularly dazzling in the dark night stared at him quietly: "Roland Collins."

He stood up and got out of the car first without waiting for Mason Lyle to speak.

Outside the door is a rugged building shrouded in fog.

There was also the boy standing aside, his head bowed and obedient.

"Say thank you to Rose for me..."

"I know she has been angry with me recently," Roland patted the boy's shoulder and put two coins into his pocket: "Of course, I have to thank you too."

The boy was flattered and hurriedly took out the coins and tried to return them to Roland: "First, sir! Sir! How dare I! How dare I accept your money and deserve your thanks to us?! No, no, no, I can't let you - —”

Roland raised his index finger and pressed his arm lightly.

This undoubted power made the boy living on the streets change his color slightly.

He is known as the 'handsome-faced Knightsbridge thug'. Compared with his strength, he thinks he will not lose to this...

this…

This beautiful, elegant and decent man is indescribably wonderful for a lack of words.

"Sir?" The boy was really worried this time, and his waist was more sincere than his faith - for these children, or people who walk in blood and mud, strength is a person's best business card.

Apparently the same thing is needed to conquer these men as it is to conquer some lonely lady.

"Take it and have a few drinks, I'll treat you to it."

Roland smiled at him, turned around and glanced at Xander, who was carrying a wide-bellied pepper box.

Then.

His eyes fell on the shivering man in the carriage.

"There is someone who misses you, Mr. Lyle. Do you miss her?"