The Clockwork God of Wall Street

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2026-06-25 01:09:51 -

The bell rang at seven on a Sunday morning in the autumn of 1883. I was still asleep in my brownstone on the Upper East Side, buried beneath heavy wool blankets that smelled faintly of camphor and regret. The bell rang three times before I answered. Come in, said the voice on the other end of the wire. Someone is doing your work. I hung up the telephone receiver and stared at the ceiling. The...

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