Chapter 265: The Englishman’s Deadly Game (K)
Chapter 264 – The Englishman’s Deadly Game (5K)
The traffic was heavy outside Whitehall Street as Arthur stepped out of the café with Bernie Harrison following close behind like a defeated rooster.
“Mr. Hastings, what do you think of that offer I just made ……”
Arthur stowed the papers in his coat and spoke, “Mr. Harrison, as I said earlier, while I personally would love to reconcile with you, I don’t have a say in this matter. The matter between you and Scotland Yard, I need to consult Director Rowan afterward. As for the document you have just handed me, I will need to carefully consider the proper way to pass it on for you.”
“Forward it?” Harrison was stunned, “Is this …… not something you are interested in the Polish issue? If you are not interested, why did you publish those articles in the Cockney?”
Hearing this, Arthur finally understood why Harrison had approached him with this document.
He guessed that he must have identified Arthur as some kind of liberal fighter who fought tirelessly in defense of Poland’s independence, like Lord Byron who went straight to the area to fight the Ottoman Turks for Greek independence.
After all, such people were not uncommon in the turbulent nineteenth century, and they were always in abundance on the tiny island of Britain.
But it was clear that Harrison had got the wrong end of the stick this time.
Arthur took off his hat and dusted off the soot on the brim: “Mr. Harrison, I am a Scotland Yard policeman, although I can barely be considered an intellectual, but an intellectual who can climb up to this position in Scotland Yard, is this experience not enough for you to see through the nature of my person?
To sing the praises of the revolution, that’s what poets do. As a policeman, my job is to hide in the shadows and just observe them quietly. As for Poland, I sympathize with the Polish people, and I’m willing to shed a few tears for their plight, but how can that help them?
Forgive my short-sightedness, but the furthest I can see is the East End of London. This document you send me is not worth as much as you think. It might help improve Sir Peele’s impression of you, if he is willing to accept it. As for my favor, please remember that you have not yet repaid it.”
With that said, Arthur gently patted Harrison on the shoulder and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “Don’t think of running away, you won’t escape the eyes of Scotland Yard. Mr. Harrison, feel free to read books and newspapers at home, I will contact you again when I need to. I have heard from Mr. Rui Yi that your company’s cosmetics are always well made, and the arsenic ratios are always cleverly used.”
When Harrison heard this, his lips turned white and his body trembled, his forehead was covered with beads of sweat. After a long time, he then took off his hat and smiled reluctantly, “Then it is fate to meet again, Mr. Hastings. The matter of the MP, if you can help, I am willing to pay a reasonable sum in return. Three thousand pounds in money orders, whether from the Rothschild Bank, the Bank of Bahrain or the Bank of England, whatever you find convenient. That’s all I’m asking, and I’ll be obliged to you to consider it.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when Harrison got into the carriage with a stiff step.
Somehow, he always felt like he was being watched by scavenging vultures when talking to this young man.
Those eyes that flashed with a faint reddish aura always made him feel as if his neck was on the gallows, and when it would take his life was just a matter of words.
Harrison leaned back against the seat of the wagon, not realizing until then that his shirt had turned out to be wet with sweat long ago, and the tightness of his shirt against his skin made him feel nothing but uncomfortable.
As the carriage rattled to a start, he couldn’t help cursing under his breath, “Arthur Hastings, the finest police officer in all of Great Britain, an outstanding pianist known in London, and an electromagnetism madman of the Royal Society, so that’s what this is?”
Arthur watched his car disappear around the corner, fished one out of the cigar box in his pocket and took it in his mouth and lit it, “Three thousand pounds ……”
Leaning against a lamppost, Agares grinned a wide, narrow-eyed grin, “Wow, Arthur, want to think about it, that’s almost enough money for three Fred’s. Then again, you’ve got a small fortune now, but your assets have all been turned into Road and Bridge shares on the stock exchange and shares in The Cockney. With those three thousand pounds, we could have a couple of proper servants and a couple of cases of Lussaluna’s Gold Drops. Wow, honestly, since I tasted that bottle of Chateau Gold Drop from the Duke of Wellington, I’ve lost all taste for other wines now.”
Arthur exhaled a smoke ring, “It’s fine to buy a few bottles of the Lusaruna family’s products, but, Agares, it’s too much to ask for Chateau Gold Drop by name. Can’t you consider the next level of products such as Gudai and Feiyue? In any case, both are Lusailuna family business, also the same French Sauternes region grapes, the difference should not be so big, right?”
Red Devil sniffed in disgust, “How can it be the same? First of all, their prices are different. Secondly, the bottle sent by the Duke of Wellington is the best of the best, brewed in 1815, a mouthful of it can not only feel the unique aroma of noble rot wine, the tip of the nose seems to be able to smell the Waterloo’s flying artillery, how can it be the same? And yet it was such a fine wine that you let that Jew spoil half of it, Arthur, what have you to say now?”
“A Jew? Wasn’t King Solomon a kike too?” Arthur bristled, “More than that, and he’s a kike who’s been dead for three thousand years, not that I’ve ever seen you denigrate him.”
The Red Devil sniffed and slapped his hand on the lamppost as he emphasized, “How can that be the same? Just as Chateau D’Arc is the king of wines, King Solomon is the king of kikes!”
“And how can it be the same? Just as the Superintendent of Scotland Yard is still a blue lobster, so Benjamin, even though he is the Prime Minister of the kikes, is still, in the end, a kike in your mouth.”
Arthur sipped his cigar and stuck his head out to look around, he was about to reach out and stop a carriage, but to his surprise, before he could do so, a carriage with a black and gold trimmed cloak slowly pulled up in front of him.
The window of the carriage was gently raised, and inside was revealed a familiar silver-haired old man.
“It’s a beautiful day, Scotland Yard lad. Do you know why I prefer you to Fouche? Here’s the difference between you and Fouche, that asshole Fouche works at least eighteen hours a day. He has no pleasure in life, except for grabbing more power. Unlike you, you combine work and rest, like me when I was young and started fishing in the café before twelve o’clock. If all the cabinet ministers in Europe worked like the two of us, there wouldn’t be so many problems.”
Arthur also understood how to deal with this old dandy and took off his hat in greeting, “Mr. Talleyrand, I’m surprised you’re not playing cards at this hour, but out on Whitehall Street. Has the intensity of your work lately risen too rapidly?”
Talleyrand laughed at his words and said, “It can’t be helped, the king sent orders from Paris for me to have a good talk with your foreign minister about Poland. This French ambassador of mine can’t always just eat and do nothing, right? I may be old, but I still have to move around once in a while, otherwise it’s not easy to ask Paris for funds for the embassy’s activities.”
Arthur asked, “But seeing as you’re back so early, I guess today’s talks didn’t go too well?”
“Well ……” Talleyrand gently raised his white eyebrows, “I’m not in a good mood anyway, do you have any money on you?”
Arthur fished his wallet out of his pocket and counted the tickets one by one, “Five pounds, that shouldn’t be too little. I have a few pence in my pocket in dimes, would you like one?”
Talleyrand lifted his cane and tapped on the window, “Come on up, lose more and you’ll give me an IOU.”
Arthur breathed a soft sigh of relief as he hooked his hand at the Red Devil crouched on the corner, “Looks like we’ve got our drop gold bank.”
Arthur rode on Talleyrand’s carriage, it was quite spacious than the carriages he usually fought, and in the corner of the carriage there was also a small wine rack and a few glasses, at a glance it was clear that Talleyrand often sipped a few glasses in the car.
Talleyrand cut the poker while speaking: “What do you want to drink take it yourself, but pay attention to the wine glass to the end of the steady, if spilled on the body, don’t blame me for dirtying your good clothes. By the way, what kind of cigar do you smoke, West Indian?” “I don’t know where they’re made, I bought them from that store in Jermyn Street that specializes in Newtons.” Arthur nodded, “But Alexander says this one tastes authentic, so I’ll trust him as a connoisseur.”
Hearing this, Talleyrand smiled and spoke, “That’s one of the things that I think makes London better than Paris, in London you can find any item produced anywhere in the world. Whether it’s tobacco from West India, spices from East India, tea from China or dried grapes from Iberia or France, you can find it all here.”
While touching the poker, Arthur opened his mouth and asked, “So, are you now going to go to Savile Row to order a morning dress of the highest order, or go to Jermyn Street to buy a few boxes of cigars like the one I’m holding?”
“Forget such things as buying; the women are the connoisseurs in that respect. I haven’t had a very good day, so I don’t intend to make it worse. I want to get myself some fun, like going to a boxing match or something.”
“A boxing match?” Arthur couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows twice when he heard the sport.
Talleyrand glimpsed his reaction and asked lightly, “What? I thought a young man like you would definitely enjoy watching boxing matches.”
Arthur threw out a card and stroked his chest to smooth his breath, “I can’t say I like or dislike boxing, but as a police officer, I’ve always abhorred all kinds of major sports. Take boxing for example, every time there’s a championship level fight, the number of people who show up to watch has always been counted in the thousands.
If you’ve been following the London fights, you may have heard about last year’s match between Simon Bourne and Sandy McKay against champion Jaime Ward, which attracted close to 10,000 people, and Scotland Yard took out 500 of its best men from all police districts in order to keep order on the ground.
As you may have guessed, I, the guy who hangs out at the café at twelve o’clock, was also arrested, and I was in charge of maintaining order at the scene of that boxing match.”
Talleyrand couldn’t help but start laughing when he heard this, “Really? I heard that the scene that day seemed to be pretty gruesome ah.”
Arthur frowned and said, “That scene can no longer be described as tragic. Simon Bourne and Sandy McKay, these two idiots were two-on-one and were even countered by Jaime Ward, Simon Bourne was KO’d in the third round, and Sandy McKay went down five times in twelve rounds, but each time he couldn’t wipe his face and had to get up, and as a result, he ended up being beaten up and bleeding to death on the spot.
The gamblers on the stage all crumbled at the sight of this situation, and the supporters on both sides began to yell at each other, and the situation developed into a flying beer bottles all over the arena, and the renegade gamblers took advantage of the chaos to try to retrieve their money, and the drunks saw the blood and had the idea to fight with the others. The ladies were screaming and running around in their skirts, and the burglary gangs of London’s East and West End took advantage of the situation to make a fortune.
If it hadn’t been for the fact that we had brought fifty guns with us that day, fired several rounds into the sky, and had a relatively adequate police presence on the scene, it would have ended up being more than just McKay in the ring who died. But even so, after the fight was over, we cops were still more or less covered in color, and a couple of unlucky guys almost got their bottles opened.”
Talleyrand laughed out loud at his words, “It seems that the boxing matches in London are even more lively than I had imagined, and the most lively sporting events are probably the only ones like this, right?”
Arthur sniffed and laughed to himself, “That’s not true, there are more fucked up ones than that. Mr. Talleyrand, are you aware of Stamford County’s traditional festival, the Running of the Bulls?”
“Running of the Bulls? What’s that about?”
Arthur spoke, “The Running of the Bulls is a fairly old festival in Stamford County, probably going back hundreds of years if you go back far enough. Every year in November a few wounded bulls in heat are unleashed on the streets there, and the villagers of dozens of villages gather in the streets to revel in the event, and basically every couple of years there’s a bit of a death toll.
The British Animal Protection Society has long viewed the festival as a thorn in the side, and almost every year sues the organizers of the Running of the Bulls in court, claiming that the festival is inhumane to both people and bulls. But the local magistrate, who considers the Running of the Bulls to be a historic tradition in Stamford County, has completely ignored the Animal Protection Society’s claims.
Seeing no way out of court, the ASPCA joined forces with their old comrades in arms, the Wesleyan clergy. The clergy also abhorred this behavior, and they often joined with the ASPCA in a major effort to crack down on bullfighting, cockfighting, and the like.
After the Animal Protection Society and the Wesleyan clergy had been toppled by a bull, the council finally made up its mind to eradicate the centuries-old custom of the Running of the Bulls. The year before last, when I first joined Scotland Yard, I happened to be lucky enough to take part in that action.
You wouldn’t believe it, but it was such a big event that day, with the police, the army, the cavalry and the local sheriffs filling the streets, that anyone who didn’t know would have thought Britain was at war with France again.”
Talleyrand smacked his drink, “So, in the end, did you succeed?”
Arthur shrugged helplessly, “Unfortunately, although that operation was described as a draw in the Parliament’s report, it was quite a bad one in my opinion. The council’s booster program aroused hostile sentiments from the locals, farmers took pitchforks to make way for the bulls, and farmers generously sponsored several times more bulls than in previous years in one go.
The Close Cavalry Regiment lost three fine horses in battle, the 5th Royal Infantry Regiment had a couple of soldiers nearly toppled to the eaves of their houses, and with the cavalry and the army like that, we Scotland Yard policemen were reduced to directing the traffic with our civilized staffs. In the end, based on Stamfordshire’s documentary records, the casualties at that year’s Bull Run were possibly the heaviest in recent decades.”
Hearing this, Talleyrand smiled from ear to ear as he shook his glass and spoke, “So what, in the end the council compromised?”
“Can’t say compromise, Sir Pyr wouldn’t like that.”
Arthur bristled, “Immediately after the outrage, Sir Pyr found an impromptu meeting with the Ministry of Finance. The day after the meeting, the Treasury presented a motion to Parliament to add an additional policing tax of six pence per pound of rent to the houses in the area hosting the Running of the Bulls. And the Treasury threatened that if Stamfordshire did not show a willingness to improve the situation, the tax might continue to be raised in the future.”
Hearing this, Talleyrand couldn’t help but laugh, “That’s a truly Britannic solution, and it seems to me that the situation at the Bull Run must have improved considerably since the tax was raised.”
Arthur nodded slightly and said, “You really guessed right on this point, the scale of the Running of the Bulls Festival has indeed continued to shrink over the past two years.”
“Well …… if you look at it that way, both boxing and the Running of the Bulls are pretty dangerous, so there aren’t any more civilized sports?”
Arthur took a sip of wine: “There are civilized ones, like rowing and stuff, by the way, have you been to the Oxbridge rowing races organized by Oxford and Cambridge in the past two years? It’s the one organized on the Thames at the end of March and the beginning of April.
And then there are the horse races, which are popular all over Europe. The Derby, which is held in June every year, is also considered a major sporting event in Britain, and last year the number of spectators along the route must have added up to more than 100,000 people.
But I’m sure you’re tired of watching horse racing in Paris, and there’s not much to it. So if you’re looking for a sport to relieve your boredom, why not try golf today?
A friend of mine has been inviting me to practice at the Royal Blackheath Club, so if you don’t mind, why don’t we divert to the Financial City and bring him along, so that we can find you some more company? What do you think?”
(End of chapter)