Chapter 134: Pretty Gray
Chapter 134: Pretty Gray
London, Tauerhamletts.
Dusk has arrived, the setting sun in the sky reflected on the yellowish sewage flowing from the tannery, actually gilded it with a layer of gold, the long sewage stream has been spreading to the sky, at first glance, it looks like a golden road leading to the zenith.
As night fell, the taverns of Brick Lane in the Whitechapel district gradually came to life.
It was filled with merchant sailors, dockers and kiln burners from the nearby brickworks, all looking for a good time.
The air smelled of sour fermented sweat, the heat of freshly baked food could be seen everywhere, the sound of rude customers bragging and clinking glasses of ale could be heard, and occasionally the angry cries of a tavern maid could be heard as she was molested.
The waitress pointed at the sailor’s nose and cursed, “You uneducated thing! If you have the guts, try pinching it again? See if I don’t chop your hand off!”
The drunken sailor hiccuped as he leaned back in his chair, so drunk that he didn’t even have the strength to get up, he tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling, but his mouth still didn’t forget to beg for favors.
“Little baby, don’t be angry. Where did you buy this ass? How does it feel harder than a rock when you touch it? Your tavern is also too not good, the beer that shouldn’t be watered down is not as strong as seawater, and the bread and ass that should be watered down are harder than one another.”
When the waitress heard this, her face turned red with anger, she raised the tray in her hand and was about to smash it towards the sailor’s head, but before she could do so, she saw a man stopping in front of him, it was the new owner of the tavern – Judd Martin.
The round-cheeked Mr. Martin had a mercenary smile on his face, and he pressed one hand into the tray that the waitress raised, then lowered his voice and said, “Annie, almost done, we still have to do business.”
Annie complained with some aggravation, “But uncle ……”
Martin reprimanded: “Do not but, here is not like home, want to make a living in London, is to suffer a little bit. We are not a noble girl, can’t touch can’t touch, if you really don’t want to work here, then early to find yourself a good mother-in-law, I spend money to hire someone else to go. Do you know how much I spent on this store and the liquor license? Girl, you just do me a favor, uncle I earn money is not easy, please don’t mess up my business.”
Anne heard here, drooping corner of the eye blinked twice, saw her eyes moist.
Judd Martin only had to flesh out two penny coins from his pocket and put them on the waitress’s tray, “Alright, alright, take this money and turn around and buy yourself something you like. There’s still some bacon and ham in the kitchen, you can cut some for yourself when you’re done working.”
The waitress then broke into a smile, she kissed Martin on the side of the face, her face was no longer the same bitter expression, “Thank you uncle.”
Martin looked at his niece walking towards the kitchen with light steps, and couldn’t help but scratch the side of his face and complained, “Girls nowadays, they’re all too shrewd. Anyone who marries my niece will be able to spend a shilling on her.”
He was about to return to the counter to resume his business, but halfway there, as if he had remembered something, Martin hurriedly shouted into the kitchen, “Anne! Just cut the ham up to the size of two fingers, and don’t eat too much of that stuff for a girl!”
Martin’s words just fell, suddenly, only to hear the sound of the tavern’s louvered waist door being pushed open.
Martin raised his eyes to see that it was three or four strong men with sturdy builds, wearing short-sleeved tops, and judging from the muscles and veins balled up into lumps on their arms as well as their misshapen ears, these guys were definitely not to be messed with.
And to top it all off, Mr. Martin could see through the gap between the burly men’s shoulders the hordes of minions outside the tavern, armed with a variety of shiny knives.
Mr. Martin hurriedly felt out two tickets from under the counter, he pondered for a moment, still did not immediately hand over the money, but first greeted with a smile and asked tentatively.
“Gentlemen, I wonder what you would like to drink today? We have this …… family.”
Unexpectedly, before his words finished, the other party had already sat himself on the high stool in front of the counter, and pinched Mr. Martin’s face with his calloused palm.
“Martin, you don’t recognize me?”
Mr. Martin carefully sized up the other party and hurriedly bared his teeth to squeeze out a smile that was worse than crying.
“So it’s Mr. Fred’s right hand man – Mr. ‘Hammer’ Ward. Haven’t you heard from Mr. Fred? The matter of me opening a store in Whitechapel has already passed his approval.”
“Fred?”
Ward laughed as he let go of Martin’s chin and spoke, “Martin, can you stop mentioning a dead man’s name all the time? He’s probably lying in the belly of some fish at this moment, and if you want to seek his protection, I can throw you into the sea.
By the way, one more extra notice for you, from now on, I’m the one who will decide what happens in Whitechapel. If you want to mix it up, you’d better show me a little due respect and sincerity.”
Hearing this, Martin knew that he would not be able to avoid it today.
He hurriedly flipped out the two tickets that he had prepared long ago and nodded his head, saying, “In that case, a little bit of a thin gift, no honor.”
Ward looked down at the ticket and the corner of his mouth jerked, “Two?”
As soon as the words fell, before Martin could reply, a sound of a gun being pulled out and the safety turned on was heard.
Several burly men behind Ward pointed their guns at the stunned guests in the tavern one by one, glaring and shouting, “What are you looking at, all of you get out!”
Ward held his gun to Martin’s chin and spoke, “Martin, you have to be thankful that I didn’t come here specifically to find you today. So I can forgive you for your first incivility. Tell me, where is Fiona? That bitch asked me to meet her here, saying that she intends to compete with me, so I don’t suppose you’re involved in her business?”
“No, of course not.” Martin raised his hands high, his cheeks sweating as he said, “So the person Ms. Ivan was talking about was you? She …… she asked me to give you a letter.”
“A letter? Hahaha!” Ward put away his pistol and whistled with a raised eyebrow, “Is that bitch trying to pour out her love for me?”
Martin tremblingly fished out the letter from under the table and respectfully handed it over with both hands.
Ward opened the letter without a care in the world, he pulled out the letterhead and looked at the front and then the back.
Both sides, however, were blank; nothing was written on them.
A sense of ill will rose up in Ward’s heart, and he hurriedly jumped off the high stool and shouted at the fellows behind him. “Something’s not right, we have to hurry back!”
A group of people hurried out the door in a panic.
Ward looked up at the sky, the sunset had already set, and at that moment, a new moon was rising from the sky.
The light of the moonlight sprinkled on Ward’s face, illuminating the beads of sweat and surprised expression on his face.
The streets of Brick Lane were empty, and not even half a sound could be heard.
In a hazy moonlight he could only see a few pairs of crimson eyes standing on the rooftops by the roadside, the dodos that had flown here from the Tower of London, and there was no one who could sniff out the scent of death better than these little things.
Ward could only feel chills running down his spine as dense beads of sweat dampened his shirt, making it cling to his back.
“Go back!”
However, no sooner had his words left his mouth than he heard a thud as Mr. Martin’s Tavern closed its door with just the right amount of force, leaving Ward with only the rickety sign hanging over the door, which read ‘Close’ in crooked letters.
Mr. Martin’s Tavern is closed from now on.
Brick Lane went from street to street, the lights went out in every house in turn, the light receding like the tide, replaced by the sound of neatly organized footsteps in the street, bowler hats, black tuxedos, stiff high-topped riding boots that splashed in the sewage, immaculate white gloves, sergeant’s knives swinging along with the pace, and faces in the shadows whose expressions could not be read.
In the myriad of hazy faces, Ward could only see a flickering red dot.
The red dot suddenly went out, and in the moonlight, Ward saw a white glove sticking out in front of him, followed by an incredibly calm voice.
“Meet Clayden Jones, the new Sergeant of the Whitechapel Parish Division of the London Metropolitan Police Force, Towershamletts Police District.”
Ward glanced at the white glove in front of him, and then at the shadows behind it, which were a pair of dark, cavernous ‘eyes’, incredibly round-looking, and therefore must also be incredibly deadly.
Ward gave an ugly smile as he forced himself not to shudder and slowly reached out his hand to try and take hold of the white gloves.
Unexpectedly, the moment he was about to touch the gloves, a slap had been thrown onto his face.
Slap!
Perhaps because of weakness, perhaps because of fear, the strong Ward was unexpectedly slapped to the ground.
However, before his dizzy head could slow down, he felt something step on the side of his face.
He slowly raised his head and finally got a good look at the face that came up in front of him, a face with some blood scabs on his forehead and a slightly bloodshot left eye, yet it was this slightly comical looking face that looked so dangerous against the moonlight.
Jones stepped on his head and leaned down to ask, “Recognize me?”
Ward looked at Jones, his pupils shrinking slightly as he finally remembered who this new sheriff of the Whitechapel district really was.
Ward gulped and grinned, “That’s all in the past, Jones old boy. It was that son of a bitch Fred who was going to beat you up, we were just carrying out his orders. You mustn’t take it to heart.”
Jones nodded slightly at his words, and behind him, red-eyed dodos flew up in flocks.
“You’re right, public and private. So, I also hope you don’t take it to heart today, because …… again, I’m just following orders.”
Gunshots rang out of the window, and on the second floor of the beer hall, was a private room.
In front of a small round table against the window sat a young man with dark hair.
He was carrying two teapots to make drinks with interest.
Inside the teapots, one contained soft milk and the other bitter coffee, and when the two were carefully blended in a one-to-one ratio, they came together to form a delicate and beautiful gray.
The Red Devil leaned against the window, where the light of the fire that lit up now and then illuminated his face, with its mouth full of sharp silver teeth, and the drool that ran down the corners of his lips drop by drop.
“Arthur, you’ve grown up. You’re finally starting to know how to savor coffee, with that rich, dense taste that’s far beyond the monotonous, immature creaminess.”
Arthur didn’t reply when he heard the red devil’s words, he just took a gentle sip from his teacup.
The coffee was indeed too bitter, and if there was no milk to temper the flavor, he didn’t know exactly how he was supposed to swallow it.
He looked down condescendingly at Jones below, the guy who had shot Ward and broken his leg.
The Red Devil hemmed and hawed as he whispered beside Arthur, “Arthur, you were right to keep him alive, Tom and Tony couldn’t do something like that.”
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door outside the house.
The door to the room was gently pushed open, and Mr. Martin stood there somewhat nervously with a tray.
The corners of his face were sweating, but on his lips he smiled and complimented, “Mr. Hastings, I’ve come to bring you ham.”
(End of chapter)