"You underestimate me. I'm hurt," he said, although his expression was blank and serious now, "Eight."

He crossed one leg over the other and clasped his hands together in front of him, looking up to the side, "My dear friend Emile. And wouldn't you know, I got away with it. The police thought he'd vanished without a trace. The body was never found. Now, if that was what I was capable of at such a tender, young age, I wonder what I'm capable of now?"