On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. ” He made a grand gesture towards the car, his smile broadening. "After all, he is my father, Hoddy; and I cursed him. ‘You would have a history of my life? Very well. “I cut off his right hand pinky with his own rusty bolt cutter.
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