Chapter 595 Ch594 Newsboys' Information

Chapter 595 Ch.594 Information about the newsboys

Randolph assured.

Five minutes ago, he said the fastest thing in his life - he was articulate and thought clearly, and explained to the angry Mr. Bull in a simple and simple way why this fried shrimp appeared in his hand. His friend Stupid, bastard, and very willing to pay double the price for this fried shrimp...

to compensate the other party for its losses.

He felt that he was just a little bit close, and he was about to receive a solid punch.

Who do you have to thank for this?

His idiot best friend, Roland Collins.

"I think you can run for mayor, just with these teeth, Randolph."

"I should have run for your father and drowned you in a commode—" Randolph cursed and pulled open his collar, glancing at Harjan.

The woman was looking at him with a look that said, "Don't infect me." She stood far away from him.

Randolph: ...

"She will say bad things about me when she goes back. Roland, can you share the time next time?!"

"I think Miss Claudia is a perfect match for you."

"You like her? Why don't I leave it to you." Randolph sneered, "A woman like this will probably annoy me to death every day."

Roland was wary: "Don't worry about my Halida."

"I'm not saying that mute is enough...forget it," Randolph really had nothing to do with him. He took off his hat and fan irritably and scratched his scalp that was wet with sweat: "Let's go and see what's going on."

The newsboys obviously saw the "interesting things" happening at the alley. They gathered together to look over here with relish, holding cheap cigarettes, coughing and spitting, and chatting about adult jokes - when Randolph After he and Roland came in, one of the children whistled.

"Little bastard..."

Randolph muttered, fanned his hat and stepped forward, clearing his throat: "Who will give me a local newspaper? I remember calling it the Port News?"

The leader, the stronger boy, stood up.

He spread his hands towards Randolph.

"We don't have to work this morning, sir." He also made an obscene salute, with a smile on his dirty face: "If you want to read the newspaper, you have to wait until the afternoon."

"Afternoon?" Randolph frowned: "I don't know, a newspaper actually has to 'wait' - it seems that the newsboys in Brighton are more leisurely than those in London... You still have time to fiddle with a cat."

cat?

The newsboy looked back and saw that the cat with its neck tied had long been paralyzed on the ground, with only its belly bulging out.

"We have to have some fun, sir. Isn't that illegal?"

"Of course not." Randolph didn't take it seriously. He took out a few coins from his pocket and flicked them to him: "Tell me, why are you so free?"

The newsboy caught a few and dropped a few. After bending down to pick them up, he revealed a mouthful of black teeth.

This time the smile was a little more sincere.

"...The master has given me money, sir. You come from London? That's not unusual. I guarantee that no newspaper seller still envies London - if we live a little longer, maybe we can still go to school."

Distribute money?

What idiot would give money to people like you?

Randolph sneered inwardly.

The "charity" of the rich does not mean giving all the money to these poor trashes who are suffering - if this really happened, it wouldn't be called charity, that's what it would be.

"Let me hear what this kindness is called." Randolph asked, holding his hands.

Kindness?

Since the time when humans invented 'money', no one should have seen this thing in the stomachs of those people.

"The name is Harold Bekanov, sir. He's a good gentleman, and he's famous for giving out money."

The leader of the newsboys said, and like the other children, there was a touch of pride and admiration on his face: It is not easy to admire these little bastards.

Harold Bekanov?

This name…

"Distributing money? How?" Randolph asked.

"It's just about giving out money." The leader held a cigarette and gestured: "Tell us what kind of construction we have invested in to make people's lives better - we are included in this, sir. As I just said, we will be able to go to school sooner or later."

The other newsboys also started talking.

What about ‘paying for clothes’, ‘meat for every meal’, ‘people who have lost their parents are adopted’, ‘easy work’, ‘earning ten times the current salary every day’…

The more Randolph listened, the more he wanted to laugh.

He was almost certain that this was a liar.

Ninety-nine percent of the time he's a liar.

The remaining 0.10% are fanatics preparing to start a riot from Brighton - is it possible?

Brighton's Porti Harbor is not an important location.

Most rich people come here for vacation. native? Their life is worse than that of the cat with a rope around its neck in the distance.

"Where can I meet this Bekanov."

The leader of the newsboys stared at Randolph, laughing and saying nothing.

So the businessman took out a few more coins and threw them on the ground.

"...You just have to go to the biggest pub. He often dined there with his business friends...Cavendish or Haldane..."

Randolph's eyes lit up.

"You mean Cavendish?"

"Ah, of course! Who doesn't know Cavendish? A tragic family with a past that shed blood and tears. They found the wrong man and their property was taken away, which led to the decline of the family... What a pity."

Roland: Hahahahaha!

Randolph smiled with a fake smile: "It just proves that the man is powerful enough."

The leader of the newsboys disagreed: "Not necessarily. My grandfather said that women are like double-edged swords, dangerous from both sides - but as long as you completely conquer them, they will support you in whatever you want to do... I bet that man must have some ability, but maybe not outside the house..."

The precocious children laughed.

Randolph's face became darker.

"Your grandfather taught you a lot of things."

"Of course, since my grandfather got a hernia, he has been howling all day and telling me these things - I will use them sooner or later."

Roland was about to die of laughter.

"...Okay, get out." Randolph lost interest in talking and drove away all the dirty dogs with his hat.

Roland crossed the dirt road, walked to the sunken corner of the alley, squatted down, and broke the rope.

He picked up the dying cat.

"The Taylor family is going to be famous."

Randolph patted him on the back and turned to walk out: "Don't mention this name in front of Cavendish, Roland. I think I guessed what happened..."

"It seems that I'm not needed?"

"This is more interesting than killing them..." Randolph hooked the corners of his cold lips, and before the sun came over, he put on a gentle smile again: "Just wait and see."

The two men left the alley.

Claudia Hayon Cavendish waited quietly at the entrance of the alley.

She didn't show any impatience about this matter, nor did she intend to ask them what they talked about with the dirty dogs.

Only when she looked at the cat in Roland's arms, dissatisfaction appeared in her eyes.

"Survival of the fittest, sir."

The way she looked at the cat was like an executive looking at an unforgivable cultist, as if her blood relatives and the cat had some unknown hatred.

When she said this, Roland immediately knew which sect she was a ritualist from.

"The Great Whirlpool".