I ain't know your address, so I just give this letter to a mudlark who knew the lay o'the area and hope for the best.
You and I ain't got no reason to like each other, but Fennick liked you good enough, so that's why I'm writing. Anyways, he's dead, and I thought you should know. It was that old wound, remember? It never did heal. We tried every kind of cure and poultice.
You know what I think? I think maybe the boss cut him. Maybe on purpose, maybe not. You know how it was back then.
Speaking of, I tried to find the Big Knife, but no one's heard a thing in years. Don't know if he's alive or what.
Anyways, outta respect to Fennick, if I ever see you, I won't kill you.