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the journal I'd seen Sir Edmond frequently writing in, late into the night. As I picked it up, a paper slipped out onto the floor. Picking the sheet up, I held it close to the candle to read the familiar handwriting.

Eliezer, if you are reading this journal, then I am dead and you are in need of guidance and knowledge. You've been like the son I never had, and I pray that you will survive the perils you face. As you know, I have worked for the English Crown most of my adult life. Read this journal, and use what is of value. Remember, I was not a spy. Instead, I thought of myself as an information collector. I let others do the in-person spying. Then, I purchased their information about the things they'd discovered. I summarized that for my sovereign. He, like me, had no time to put his ear to keyholes. I could never find a way to thank you for all the help you gave me without endangering your life with the knowledge of what you were helping with.

I intended to place the journal in the trunk with the few items I was keeping. I sat down to rest my leg. The knife wound was still weeping through the dressing if I put any pressure on the leg. My eyes teared up as I started to read the journal.

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