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London —1885—

A city seething with respectability, but under the veneer, vice abounds and evil lurks, waiting for a victim, waiting to pounce. It is a volcano, on the verge of erupting, the contaminating corruption hidden by an ever present fog that hovers and covers —just barely revealing the outlines of an indulgent and sybaritic society that wants to blanket its sinful secrets in a cloak of propriety

... And on Kabir, a fortress in the clouds —

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