The Dumpling by Coulson Kernahan

"You say -- I read it in your eyes -- that I am mad," the Dumpling went on, after a pause. "Wait and see. If mad I am, then mad were Cesar, Alexander, Moses -- mad even perhaps the Christ Himself.

"You say -- again I see it in your eyes -- you say: 'This man claims to be Napoleon, and condescends to become a criminal, a thief, a concocter of plots to entrap and kidnap millionaires. ' But listen. Napoleon is unchanged. Should I, a hundred years ago, have hesitated to torture a rich Jew -- had I so chosen -- to wring from him his millions for the carrying on of my wars? Money I must have. Money I will have, if I am to lead the legions of Labour to victory. These millionaires, these wealthy parvenus whom I hold to ransom, are but the base pawns in the game, from whom I wring the means of carrying on my war. I stop at nothing. I scruple at nothing, so long as I achieve my end. At this moment the mines are laid for a revolution which shall shake England to its centre. I, who hold the strands of the whole network of the conspiracy in my single hand, have not scrupled, in laying and carrying out my plans, to use base tools -- thieves and rogues and criminals. What are they to me? I achieve my purpose. That is enough.