Chapter 32: The Devil’s Whisper
Chapter 32 The Devil’s Whisper
Greenwich District, 18 Central Avenue, in a small three-story building with an ordinary appearance.
It was already nighttime, and through the blue curtains that had already lost their color, one could see an oil lamp in front of the table case in the second floor window.
Arthur, dressed in a police uniform, sat in front of the case, his face lit by the soft warm yellow light.
Every now and then there would be noisy noises from next door of couples arguing and children crying.
In the past, at this time, Arthur would always push open the door and go out for a walk.
Because his sleep was always very light these years, only when everything around him was quiet could he sleep slightly more peacefully.
But today was obviously different, he was neither annoyed by the noise nor tormented by the fact that he couldn’t fall asleep for a long time.
It was because he put his full attention to the task at hand.
He had before him two pieces of information, one being the Scotland Yard House Rules, and the other the Police Instructions, which laid down the principles and norms of police conduct.
From time to time he glanced up at them, and after a moment’s pause for reflection, he lifted up his quill and wrote what was in his mind on the old newspaper at one side, and only after he had written and drawn and presumed it to be correct, would he transcribe them word for word like a printing press, on clean, white, rectilinear paper.
Page after page of the Scotland Yard House Rules and the Police Instructions were turned over, and the time went by little by little.
When he closed the last page and looked up, the kerosene lamp on the table had burned out, and the sun had risen outside the window.
Arthur leaned back in his chair and stretched lazily, when suddenly, five slender fingers with pitch-black fingernail caps pressed on his desktop, picking up the dozen or so pages he had labored all night to compile.
Immediately afterward, Agareth’s familiar voice with a bit of calmness in his mania rang out, “What a beautiful hand of writing. Arthur, if I ever return to Hell, why don’t you simply come and work for me as a clerk?”
Arthur closed his eyes and rubbed his face, asking without thinking, “Agareth, don’t give me a blank check. By the way, what were you doing last night? I didn’t see you all night.”
The Red Devil’s hefty laugh resounded in Arthur’s ears, “You were so engaged in your work that I couldn’t bear to disturb you. So I went to Windsor Castle by myself to take a break. Arthur. That king of yours, he’s about to die, he even pees purple!”
Arthur heard this and froze, “How did you know that?”
“Because I saw him pee, of course!”
Arthur said helplessly, “Do you still have this hobby? What’s there to see in a fat old man?”
Agares smiled broadly, “There’s nothing to see, but I have to keep an eye on him all the time.
He exudes an aura of decay that even crows can read, and it was the dodo ravens bred by the Tower of London that I followed to find him last night.
Think about it, Arthur, how can a dying king, a coward, a soul who has enjoyed all the glory of the world, how can he willingly go to his death?
I guarantee that he will be willing to surrender half his wealth and power, even if it means adding his soul, in exchange for ten or five years of life, which is quite a deal!
Arthur, think again. Don’t be so stubborn. I only want the soul, the rest is all yours.”
Arthur leaned back in his chair and smoothed back his hair, which looked a little greasy from the late night.
“I have to say, Agareth, I’m starting to get a little carried away.”
Agareth’s smile suddenly faltered when he heard this.
He first touched his forehead and then raised his hand to feel Arthur’s.
The red devil was puzzled, “You’re not sick either?”
He glanced again at the rising sun outside the window and at Arthur’s slightly darkened circles under his eyes from staying up all night.
The Red Devil gave his judgment seriously as he pointed at Arthur and said, “You must be delirious due to lack of sleep. It’s really unlike you to agree so painfully.”
Arthur cried and laughed at Agares’ reaction as he asked, “What on earth do you think I am? It’s not easy for me to make up my mind to talk some business with you, and this is your attitude?”
The Red Devil frowned tightly at his words, and he pondered for half a day before he clapped his hands together and shouted with a wild laugh, “You’re trying to swindle me? Arthur, playing this with me, you are still too young! The old me followed King Solomon back then ……”
“When attacking Jerusalem.” This time do not wait for the red devil to put words to speak, Arthur has picked up the back. He grumbled, “Agareth, can’t you get some new words? You are at least one of the great scholars in hell, well versed in astronomy, math, and the mysteries of language and writing, can’t you speak with a bit of class?”
Because Arthur’s behavior today was really too abnormal, causing Agares to be a bit puzzled, he didn’t even curse back in the first place.
Instead, he tentatively asked, “Have you changed your mind? Don’t want to take a boat out of this shit anymore, and don’t want to continue mixing like this?”
“Is this shit hole something you can leave by boat?”
Arthur craned his sore neck, “Honestly, at this point in time, the North American colonies aren’t much stronger. If you go there, you’ll either find a piece of uncultivated land and become a farmer, or you’ll start as a junior worker in a factory in the city.
Although I hate it here, at least I still have some friends here.
If you go to a North American colony, you’ll have to start all over again, and you’ll have to adapt to your surroundings.
Besides, leaving because I hate it makes me feel like a loser. How can I be happy if I don’t stir it up?”
Agareth looked at Arthur’s sincere expression, and the corners of the red devil’s mouth gradually grinned.
“My dear Arthur, you finally understand this.”
Arthur picked up the already cooled black tea and took a gulp, his head tilted slightly forward as he asked at Agareth, who was sitting on the table.
“Tell me, what should I do?”
Agareth sniffed, and the corners of the red devil’s mouth looked like a cracked pumpkin that was on the verge of grinning to the sky.
But his voice was still raspy with a bit of deadly seductiveness.
He held up the manuscript, which Arthur had been busy for three days to complete, and said, “Arthur, haven’t you obviously already figured out what to do?
As a renowned scholar of Hell, I don’t encourage you to ask such questions that have predetermined answers in advance; I’m not interested in answering fill-in-the-blanks questions.
But as a quality trading client with my carefully cultivated villainous students, Professor Agares is very relieved and satisfied that you are able to make advance preparations for the upcoming lesson.
Recall what you have learned and experienced in your history course at the University of London.
As you did when you confronted Sheriff Willox, I recognize that individuals may swing at the strong. But at the same time, I am a firm believer that the group will always pick on the weak only.
Therefore, it is impossible for your individual pipsqueak to change the mores of an entire society and the accumulated ills of history.
What the group wants most is not to be free, but to be enslaved.
They crave obedience so much that they instinctively submit to those who call themselves their leaders.
And a leader’s power to influence generally comes rarely from reason, but often from prestige and emotion.
And that prestige and affection is only personal and has nothing to do with your title or status.
As you said in the Meditations, which you quoted before the young clerk of the court: men scorn each other and flatter each other, men each wishing to be above others and each prostrating himself before them.
The masses are incapable of discernment, and consequently they are incapable of judging the truth of things, and many opinions which do not stand the test of scrutiny are easily and universally approved.
And what you need to do is to export the point of view to them, and with the action again and again, and constantly deepen the impression of this point of view in their minds, and when this repetition reaches a certain number of times, it will bury your argument in the deepest part of their hearts, and become a creed that they hold as the truth.
They will never allow anyone to question their truth or hold what they consider to be a fallacy. This paranoia is so deeply ingrained that it is difficult to shake unless it is replaced with another extreme emotion.
When that time comes, you will be their gods, and you can wield more power than the call of the wind, and perhaps this influence will last for centuries to come among your children and grandchildren.”
Agareth’s smile faded and his figure faded from Arthur’s sight as the curtains fluttered and a breeze blew through the manuscript into Arthur’s hand.
The bedroom was silent, and in Arthur’s ears, he could only hear, if anything, a hint of the devil’s whisper.
“Go and do it, Arthur, it will be the fundamental laying of the foundation of your march to greatness.”
(End of chapter)