Chapter 88: Martin’s Beer Hall

Chapter 88 – Martin’s Beer Hall
After listening to Mr. Martin’s introduction, Arthur finally understood what kind of thing the Cambridge’s group in his mouth was.

As we all know, Britons’ sense of family is relatively indifferent compared to the continental European countries, when a child reaches the age of seven or eight, the poor families will usually try to send him to a factory or various stores as an apprentice for seven or eight years, while the rich and middle class families will also consider sending their children to boarding schools, or sending them to the homes of their skilled relatives to learn a trade.

Accordingly, to compensate for the lack of family support, Britain developed a tradition of folk associations, whereby an Englishman might not be reunited with his parents even once a month, but he was sure to participate in various associations every week.

The range of associations was very broad: religious, academic, economic, professional, recreational, and they covered almost every aspect of British life.

The so-called Cambridge’s group was a spontaneous association of young men who made a living out of crime, and the official name would have been ‘Cambridge’s Little Brothers’.

According to Mr. Martin’s account, the young men were almost all from the same neighborhood and had been working together in crime since they were very young.

At first they only engaged in petty thefts, while in recent times it has developed into active bumper-to-bumper, shoplifting with an organized division of labor.

They also sometimes visit the wealthy West End of London, where they get paid for recovering lost pets for rich people.

Often, of course, a large proportion of those lost pets are actually stolen by them.

But no matter what, if you want to find something or someone, these young men with nothing better to do will always find a way, as long as they are paid.

After Mr. Martin finished these, he couldn’t help but lower his voice and fawn, “That …… Inspector Hastings, the last time I came to you to ask about that tavern, do you think you can pull a string for me?”

Arthur closed the notebook filled with information and spoke, “I’m sorry, Mr. Martin, you’re a bit unlucky. Your idea of opening a brewpub is really quite an upwardly mobile one.

But unfortunately, the license to operate a tavern is now out of the hands of the Justice of the Peace, and it would be useless for me to even pull strings for you.

You know the Beer Law that was just passed this month? It stipulates that the license to operate a beer hall is now issued by the Tax Department.

But in the meantime you are in luck, because under the Beer Act you can apply to the Inland Revenue for a license to sell beer if you can pay the annual license tax of £2.20.

However, the license is limited to beer only, and if we find you selling other spirits such as sherry or booze in your store, then we will fine you £20.

Of course, if you are selling a lighter drink such as cider or pear cider, then no additional license is required.

Also, I have the pleasure of informing you that all taxes levied on beer and cider will be abolished as of the date of the Beer Act.”

Martin listened to Arthur’s words with a mixture of loss and then surprise.

“My God! There is such a good thing? Mr. Police Inspector, you’re not making fun of me, are you?”

Arthur received the notebook in his arms, “You have to thank the people who take to the streets every day to protest.

If it wasn’t for them, the Duke of Wellington wouldn’t have suddenly come up with such a Beer Act.

In order to be able to make those people on the streets go home obediently, this time the Cabinet has kind of torn itself apart from the magistrates, and has actually taken even the power to issue beer licenses back from them.

You probably don’t know how happy the Duke of Wellington was when the bill passed its third reading in the House of Commons, saying that ‘the success of the bill is a greater victory than the battle of Waterloo’.

But I must also warn you that I have heard that the wine merchants and big pub owners are not happy with this Beer Act because they don’t want to let people like you into the beer market.

If the Duke of Wellington’s cabinet falls, there is a possibility that the Beer Act will be revised again. So, if you are planning to open a tavern, grab a license and get it done in the meantime.”

Hearing this, Martin hurriedly covered his forehead and exclaimed, “Wow! Damn! I’m really thankful for your reminder, I’ll hurry up and go to the tax department to apply for the license!”

“Wait!” Arthur immediately shouted at him again when he saw him going out the door.

Mr. Martin turned around and asked, “Is there anything else you need?” Arthur walked up and patted him on the shoulder, “A tavern is a tavern, but since the beer tax has been abolished, you should at least stop mixing green alum or bitter wood ale or something like that with the beer you sell, that stuff is poisonous, and using a little bit of lemon juice to enhance the flavor is almost enough.”

Hearing this, Martin couldn’t help but rub the back of his head and smiled, “Look at what you’re saying, if I open a tavern, I’ll definitely have to run it honestly.”

Arthur looked at the thieving light in this old boy’s eyes and sighed with a skewered mouth, “Alright, I believe you.”

With that, he waved at Tom and Tony behind him, ready to lead them straight to the address Martin had provided them with.

Who knew that before they could go out, this time it was Mr. Martin who called out to them again.

“Inspector Hastings!”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, “What is it?”

Martin hesitated for a long time, before he embarrassedly enlightened, “If you plan to go to them, you’d better take your gun with you, I’ve heard that they seem to be a bit related to Fred. And you know, that group of people are all young people, and young people’s temper is generally …… not very stable ……”

……

Whitechapel District, 75 Brick Lane, Blackpool Private Investigators.

A man wearing a large brimmed hat and a black trench coat suddenly burst through the door.

He came to the front desk position and lightly tapped the desktop with his finger, waking up the burly man who was leaning back in his office seat and huffing and puffing.

In a low voice, the man asked, “Is your boss in?”

The burly man rubbed his sleepy eyes and looked up at his guest as he frowned and asked, “Who the fuck are you? Got a letter of introduction? We usually only do business with familiar customers here.”

When the man heard this, he clenched his right hand into a fist and slammed it onto the tabletop with a thud.

The large brimmed hat was shaken and fell to the floor, revealing the man’s true face.

He pulled the flintlock pistol out of his pocket and held it against the burly man’s mouth, “I’m asking you, is your boss, that idiot Fred, here?!”

The burly man hurriedly threw his hands upward in surprise at his sudden outburst.

Just as the scene reached a stalemate, a heavy footstep sounded on the stairs leading to the second floor.

“Yo! If it isn’t Sheriff Braden Jones! Last time, you dared to pull out a gun in front of me in order to catch a few body-snatchers, and this time you’ve brought a gun with you, so you must have gotten me a good deal, right?”

As soon as the words fell, Jones felt the door of the detective agency creak shut, and immediately afterward, several guns were pressed against his head.

Fred, dressed in a rumpled shirt, came down the stairs, easily snatching Jones’ pistol with a two-finger clip before stomping his foot into Jones’ stomach and kicking him into the seats used to entertain guests inside the house.

Fred sank his butt against the corner of the table and fished his pipe out of his pants pocket and held it to his mouth.

The junior next to him had the good sense to pull out a match and light it for him.

Two smoke rings spit out, Fred rubbed his sore neck, rushed to the minions pointing at Jones and opened his mouth: “This kid thinks that I won’t dare to do anything to him because Clemens is covering him. All of you together, give me a hard beating, first until you make me happy.”

There’s another shift today, it should be later.

(End of chapter)