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Chapter 27: THE SHADOW OF GOTHAM
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Chapter 29: INDIAN HILLS
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... l Penguin the Little Cripple.
There was no malice in his tone, no derision, no amusement—just cold indifference. The words left his lips like an offhand remark about an unremarkable distant relative. If anyone else had uttered those words, they would have been met with bullets or a blade. But in this dimly lit lounge, with the faint scent of aged whiskey and cigar smoke hanging in the air, it was simply two old friends discussing the state of affairs, no different from businessmen lament ...
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