Chapter 284: A Trapped Beast Fighting (K4)

Chapter 283: A Sleepy Beast Still Fighting (4K4)

“Well ……”

Arthur couldn’t help but feel a little unsure of what to say when he heard Gladstone actually manage to ask this.

Perhaps because of his education at the University of London, during his time at the university, Arthur would often go to the public lectures held by Mr. Bianchin when he had nothing else to do.

And Jeremy Bianchin, as a serious Oxford University graduate, in his speeches, in addition to talking about the field of law that he specializes in, this temper rate until some eccentric old codger will often unrelentingly slam a few sentences of his alma mater.

It was from Bianchin’s mouth that Arthur built up a basic impression of Oxford education in this era.

As one of the two oldest universities in the United Kingdom, Oxford University retained a fairly strong aristocratic and religious attributes, as all European church universities do, Oxford and Cambridge both attach considerable importance to classical education, or more precisely, they attach great importance to the education of classical literature of Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome. As for the English literature of native Britons, it was rightly regarded as the literature of the poor and was not included in their teaching.

In addition to this, Oxford and Cambridge, as universities founded by the clergy, retained many old and stagnant customs. For example, every student who enrolled had to sign the Thirty-nine Articles of Faith, which swore an oath of the state religion, or he or she would not be allowed to enroll.

Although this ritual, which has become more and more formalized, has little meaning today, similarly dogmatic and rigid rules, as well as rigid and rigid internal hierarchical relationships, have spawned countless bad customs.

Professors bossed around students, upperclassmen bullied lowerclassmen, and the combination of pressure and relatively wealthy families gave rise to an Oxford campus where alcoholism, prostitution, and violence were the order of the day.

In Bianqin’s mouth, Oxford produces only four kinds of students.

The first is such as he has always refused to integrate and bite the bullet to the end of the rebels, such people although graduated from Oxford, but this is ashamed, Oxford education to bring them in addition to some of the knowledge is to give them unlimited spirit of rebellion.

The second is like Lord Byron, although they are also rich in the spirit of rebellion and the same hate Oxford, but in Oxford for a long time in the study or let them get infected with Oxford’s bad atmosphere. But unlike ordinary Oxford people, they do not bother to hide their behavior, and their own behavior to denounce the hypocrisy of Oxford’s educational philosophy. The string of outrageous and outrageous histrionics during Lord Byron’s lifetime, and the broken heart of that one lady, is the best illustration of the life style of this nineteenth century English hippie.

The third is the norm for most Oxford graduates, who outwardly seem to have embraced the Oxford philosophy, and no one could be louder than they are when it comes to reciting the Thirty-Nine Articles of Faith. But everyone knows that this is nothing more than window dressing.

When in public, these Oxford model students would all behave as if there was no one in the world more honorable and decent than them.

But at nightfall, Oxford’s boisterous beer halls and thriving prostitution industry have shown how they really feel. Perhaps in private, when no one was around, they played a little fancier than Lord Byron, only they wouldn’t mention it on their lips. And they would eventually carry the habit into the various industries their family was involved in as well as the Oxbridge graduate-studded Parliament.

As for the fourth kind, according to Mr. Beecham, such people can be called the most naive fools in the world, who are really fooled by all the maxims and regulations and so-called ancient traditions of Oxford, and who are the most respectful and pious believers as well as the most learned and advanced students. They stood the test of Oxford’s bad manners. They have kept their hands clean and their feet clean.

Only when he said this, Mr. Bianchin regretted to say that at least he had not seen this fourth kind of people when he was a student at Oxford, and that such people survived only in his imagination.

Perhaps because of Beeching’s influence, when Arthur first heard of Gladstone’s style, he inevitably wondered if the boy was really as faultless as rumor had it.

However, on second thought, even the University of London was able to give birth to such a strange behavioral species as Elder, and it didn’t seem to be a small probability that Oxford would occasionally recruit a psychopath.

Besides, Oxford had already produced an oddball like Reverend Newman, and another Mr. Decent Gladstone was really not surprising.

Arthur gauged Gladstone’s expression, but after watching him for a while, he never read any semblance of deception into the other man’s micro-expression.

Since the other party really didn’t understand, Arthur could only patiently give him a slow explanation, after all, Scotland Yard’s most important task today was to serve these pious gentlemen who had come for moral counseling. Although Director Rowan didn’t send him out to pick up customers, but when someone came to the door, Arthur still didn’t mind providing a few high-quality services individually.

Arthur opened his mouth and said, “The so-called clandestine prostitutes refer to those related workers who don’t solicit clients in fixed locations and in public, which includes mistresses who have been kept for a long period of time, as well as ladies who don’t make a living from this for a long period of time, but do a deal once in a while. These ladies dress almost no differently from ordinary women, and they are even married, with their own jobs, husbands and children.

Generally speaking, it was extremely difficult to recognize whether they were engaged in the business or not, and only the most experienced veterans could read their impromptu hints, which might be a teasing gesture of lifting their skirts, a suggestive look, or a not-so-direct seductive remark.

For the most part, these ladies have one or a few steady, long-term clients, and their transactions are small and secretive, making it difficult for Scotland Yard to find out exactly how many of them there are.

We can only take our chances by sending our most seasoned agents to follow the streets of London, and if we happen to run into a lady who just happens to have lost one of her steady clients, or if we make her feel that our agent is a worthwhile development, then we might just be lucky enough to get it.”

Gladstone asked, “By getting it, do you mean being developed by her?”

Arthur hadn’t swallowed the tea that had reached his mouth when he heard this and almost sprayed it directly in the other man’s face, he calmly swallowed his black tea and drew out his handkerchief to dry the corners of his mouth, “Mr. Gladstone, I was referring to the Scotland Yard secret whore statistics plus one. I don’t think for the average constable they can come up with much spare cash for such things.”

Gladstone asked again, “So you mean that senior police officers would be able to?” Arthur stared at the serious expression on Gladstone’s face, all a little unsure of how to interact with the politically seemingly unenlightened rash. But at least for the moment, he finally understood why the Tory bigwigs with their conservative leanings were backing the young man.

Whether by Western or Eastern standards, the guy’s morals were innocent enough, which would be very appealing to the clergy indeed.

Arthur turned to speak, “Well, Mr. Gladstone, if you really want to go back to your roots. I’ll be straight with you, in terms of expense alone, the salaries of the senior officers are indeed high enough to cover this expenditure. It’s a high enough return, which is one of the reasons why the number of prostitutes remains high.

Think about it, in London today, most working girls earn around £25-30 a year, yet according to Scotland Yard, the pick-up unit price for an average drifter who has fallen into the limelight can often be as much as a shilling. Thus, even those ladies who have to be pumped 40-50% by the brothels can manage to earn 80-100 pounds a year, and those who are better off can even double that.

You will also be aware of what the normal level of income in London is at the moment – a well-respected and established mechanic will only get £100, and a senior railroad company clerk is earning £60-80 a year. As for me, as Superintendent of Scotland Yard, my annual income from my duties is £150. With the lure of such wealth, and the unethical inducements of some of those involved, the first time they do it, they do it again, and later on it becomes more and more unmanageable.

I have heard that you have been admonishing them for a long time, so you may know from them that there is no turning back once you have done it. From Scotland Yard’s interrogation of a total of 3,103 prostitutes arrested in the past, it appears that 1,773 of them had no education at all, 1,237 were able to recognize the twenty-sixth letter of the alphabet, could read and write in a basic way, 89 had been tutored by governesses, and only eight had attended a full grammar school for women.

So the vast majority of them had to work as weavers or housemaids. But you may not be aware that factory owners and domestic employers are very particular about the past experience of their employees, so that if they find out that they have had such experience, they are unlikely to get any job. This, I think, may be the reason why you have been failing in your moral persuasion.”

Gladstone couldn’t help but frown when he heard this, and as if he had thought of something, and as if he was in some pain, he sighed and said, “Alas …… I can’t think of anything that would refute your reasoning. Mr. Hastings, I have to admit that perhaps I had a somewhat preconceived impression of Scotland Yard before. Now that I’ve heard you say that, perhaps the phenomenon I heard about before is only a minority.”

Arthur tasted a hint of something amiss in the head of Gladstone’s words, “What have you heard before?”

The Reverend Newman, who was aside, heard this and explained for him, “William told me earlier that when he was walking the streets of London, someone had complained to him that ‘if a whore argues with a policeman, she’s bound to die,’ and there seemed to be quite a number of windswept women who held such a claim. And when I sat in the confessional I used to hear similar statements that if they did not pay a bribe to a policeman or a magistrate they would be taken away to be investigated.”

When Arthur heard this, he immediately figured out Gladstone’s activity area, originally he thought that Gladstone was at most wandering around Fiona’s territory, but now it seems that this kid must not have drifted to the area of Holywell Street and Leicester Square when he had nothing to do.

Given that the young gentleman in front of him was likely to be elected as a councillor in the near future, Arthur could only deliberate for a moment, and then spoke cautiously, “I do not deny that there is such a phenomenon within Scotland Yard, extorting brothels, forcing street girls to pay bribes, or forcing them to provide free services, and the like happens from time to time. Therefore, every now and then, Scotland Yard will dismiss and prosecute some police officers who have been found to be in violation of the law.

But I have to emphasize that not everything you hear is true. Although the legal boundaries of their business practices are so blurred that we can’t directly declare such practices to be in violation, under the Vagrancy Act, police officers are obliged to control their soliciting and pedestrian solicitation practices. Many of them are not only in the business of selling their bodies, but also engage in a considerable amount of robbery, theft, and violent assaults and killings of their clients.

And most of the time when we prosecute these ladies and their collaborators, we prosecute them on those charges. Because of that, so you understand, Scotland Yard has always had a terrible relationship with these ladies.”

The Red Devil, who was sitting on the windowsill aside, could not help laughing at this, and he asked, with a wag of his tail, “Oh, my dear Arthur, are you not ashamed to say that? Is there anyone in all of London, no, in all of Britain, who works more with these ladies than you? And I see you are on good terms, at least you have not asked them for a bribe or a free service, have you? You paid them, a whopping six hundred pounds!”

Arthur glanced at the conspiratorial red devil and said with a calm smile, “Now then, Mr. Gladstone, is there anything else you wish to know?”

Gladstone had wanted to properly denounce Scotland Yard today, but the fledgling young man had been sidetracked by Scotland Yard’s detailed statistics and Arthur’s half-truths.

He was silent for a moment and shook his head, “No, Mr. Hastings, I think you make a good point. Maybe I’ll have problems in the future, but not anymore.”

He stood up and prepared to go out the door, and Newman, seeing that he was leaving, stood up with him.

But before he could go out, Newman glanced back at Arthur again, with a look of resignation, as if something was difficult to talk about.

Arthur saw the misgivings in his heart, and asked softly, “Mr. Newman, are you in some kind of trouble?”

Newman’s hand rested on the doorknob, he hesitated for a moment, then suddenly smiled again, “Arthur, you said it very well. It’s always a pleasure to hear such practical and logical assertions. It always reminds me of what you said to me the last time I met with you. You advised me to stop the anti-Robert Peel campaign because it was not doing the clergy in Oxford any good. At the time I thought you were just defending your guide Peel back then, but looking back now, perhaps you were right.

The Whigs’ claims are even more frightening than the Tories’, and they have become more contemptuous of the faith than anyone could have imagined. They were rejecting God and the moral constraints they had contracted with Him. As you say, the average police officer doesn’t have a lot of spare cash to spend on favoring stragglers. Just how much sin must flow from how many people to feed this hotbed of hell? I have seen it, Arthur, I have seen it with my lightless eyes, they, who want to be above God.”

Newman’s words fell as he pushed open the door to his office and walked out with Gladstone, leaving a calm-faced Arthur sitting behind his desk.

With one hand resting on his chin, he narrowed his eyes and stared at the place where Newman had left, muttering under his breath, “That doesn’t sound quite right… Do the clerics want to do something?”

When Agareth heard this, he just gently swirled the sugar jar open on Arthur’s desk and picked up a square of sugar and put it in his mouth, “A trapped beast will still have to fight, let alone a servant of God.”

(End of chapter)