The Shadow of Great Britain

70: Chapter 31 Special Authorization 70: Chapter 31 Special Authorization In the office of the Home Office, Arthur sat on the chair, his police uniform drenched with rain, water droplets falling from his hair with a drip-drip sound.

His lips looked somewhat blue, his fists clenched on his knees, trembling slightly.

From Arthur’s solemn expression, Sir Peel had already discerned something amiss.

Sir Peel exchanged a glance with the Duke of Wellington, who was leaning on the sofa, savoring his sherry, and then asked with a gentle smile, “Police officer Arthur, what seems to be the matter?”

Arthur took a deep breath and said bluntly, “I hope that you can authorize me and my subordinates of the Greenwich Police District full authority to investigate everything about the missing persons case in St Giles Church Parish.”

“The missing case in St Giles Parish?”

Sir Peel gave it some thought for a good while before he remembered that Scotland Yard seemed to have reported such a matter to him.

Although he, as the Home Secretary, was responsible for overseeing Scotland Yard, he had been so preoccupied with the conflicts between the two parties that he hadn’t given much thought to this matter.

Now that he remembered, he quickly rifled through several thick file boxes on his desk.

It took him about two or three minutes before he extracted a page from a thick stack of documents.

Sir Peel quickly skimmed over it and then laid the report in front of Arthur.

“Is this what you are talking about?

A report from two months ago, about a few prostitutes and beggars gone missing in St Giles Parish?”

Arthur glanced at the report, and his mind, which had calmed down only after being drenched in the rain for most of the day, immediately began to heat up again.

He was starting to understand why Agares had previously told him not to pursue this case.

The words of the Red Devil echoed in his ears.

——Arthur, why do you think Scotland Yard isn’t looking into this case?

——Listen to me, don’t touch it, or you might stumble and shatter to pieces!

——There are some things you’re better off not knowing!

——You don’t have the ability to know.

The bastards!

Arthur took a deep breath, his mood now like an ancient well without ripples; nothing could stir his heart other than the drowning of a few people.

“Sir, I must inform you that the missing case in St Giles Parish is not just about a few prostitutes and beggars; it involves at least forty-five people.

The scope of the case is not limited to West London; a murder related to the missing case also occurred in my jurisdiction the day before yesterday.

According to the confession of an accomplice, all these missing persons are linked to ‘murder for cadavers,’ and their modus operandi is highly similar to that of the infamous Burke gang that shocked the whole of Great Britain two years ago in Edinburgh.

Now, the citizens of London are still under threat of death; the body of a new victim was just discovered this morning at St Thomas’ Hospital, King’s College.

If we cannot bring these criminals to justice swiftly, I fear that with the rising number of missing persons, the media will soon expose the information, and the subsequent negative impact will be immeasurable.”

Upon hearing this, Sir Peel furrowed his brow, glanced at the report in his hands, then at Arthur, and asked.

“Are you certain everything is true?”

Arthur removed his hat, touching the Scotland Yard police badge as he swore, “I swear on my honor and conscience that every word I have spoken is true.”

Upon hearing his words, Sir Peel slammed the report on his desk with a thud, cursing out of the door.

“Send someone to 4 Whitehall immediately to tell those inspectors from Scotland Yard, who are lazier than Belfort, to come see me this instant!

I want to ask them why, after such a big case has happened, I still have a report from two months ago sitting on my desk!”

While Sir Peel was enraged, the Duke of Wellington suddenly stood up.

He took a bottle of sherry wine from Andalusia out of the cupboard, filled himself a little more, and then poured another glass in front of Arthur.

Arthur was taken aback by the high-stemmed glass that suddenly appeared before him, and turning towards the unfamiliar brown-haired elder gentleman, asked, “What is this?”

The Duke of Wellington pointed to the glass and said, “Have a bit, young man.

Looking at your expression, it’s as if you just came down from the battlefield.”

Upon hearing this, Arthur was first startled, and then forced a small smile.

“I do indeed feel as though I’ve just come down from the battlefield, perhaps only on the battlefield could you see such horrendous scenes.”

The Duke of Wellington couldn’t help but ask, “What did you see?”

“I…”

Arthur fell silent for a moment, “I saw a very good friend die next to me, and I was powerless to prevent her death.

I could only stand there quietly looking on, but there was nothing I could do.

I am a police officer; I thought the existence of the police was to prevent these things from happening, but they kept happening one after another.

It was my dereliction of duty, and I feel great shame and…

and I’m terribly sorry…”

Sir Peel, hearing this, suddenly thought of what Arthur had said before.

“You just mentioned that a victim was discovered this morning at St.

Thomas’s Hospital…

Could it be…”

The Duke of Wellington, upon hearing this, suddenly spoke up.

“Young man, as a police officer, it is indeed shameful to be unable to stop a crime.

And you just mentioned that you wanted to take full responsibility for investigating this case.

But I recall that St Giles Parish belongs to West London, which shouldn’t be within your jurisdiction, should it?

If you step out of line like this, it would be considered insubordination if you were in the military.”

Sir Peel, upon hearing this, slowly closed his mouth, simply smiling as he watched everything unfold before him.

Arthur took a deep breath and stood up, knowing the final test had arrived.

“I don’t think this constitutes insubordination.”

The Duke of Wellington swirled his glass, “Give me a reason.”

Arthur spoke, “Your Grace, because time is of the essence, I don’t want to lose half the battle before it even begins!”

The Duke of Wellington was startled by this remark, because what Arthur had just quoted was his own famous words from when he had defied the Army’s orders during the Peninsular War.

He asked, astonished, “How do you know who I am?”

Arthur calmly replied, “To be seated comfortably in Sir Peel’s office indicates your high status.

The ease with which you help yourself to a drink here suggests a close relationship with him.

You mentioned the military, indicating you have served as a soldier.

Considering your age, wavy hair and blue eyes, coupled with the well-tailored civilian clothes you wear,

I can only deduce that you are that ‘dashing playboy’ of your youth, the victor of the Battle of Waterloo, Duke of Wellington, Arthur Wellesley.”

At this, Sir Peel couldn’t help but stand up and applaud Arthur, “Officer Arthur, that was a beautiful deduction.”

Even the Duke of Wellington, who seldom showed approval, nodded.

He raised his glass and clinked it with Arthur’s, “Young man, it seems assigning you to investigate this matter isn’t insubordination at all.

You’ve got the capability.”

“In that case…” Sir Peel said with a smile and glanced at the Duke of Wellington, “Your Grace?”

The Duke of Wellington nodded and replied, “Mr.

Hasting, you’ve earned this opportunity.

We grant you special authorization.”

Arthur inquired, “Is this a special authorization from the Home Office?”

“No, no, no.”

The Duke of Wellington drew a pen from his breast pocket and pulled a piece of paper from Sir Peel’s desk.

He quickly scribbled a few notes, then folded the paper and stuffed it into the pocket on Arthur’s chest.

“Go to Scotland Yard and tell them the special authorization comes from the former Commander-in-Chief of the British Army, the current Prime Minister, and Chancellor of the Exchequer of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Arthur Wellesley.”

The Duke of Wellington watched Arthur leave the office, still relishing Arthur’s recent deduction.

“Robert, really, this young man named Arthur seems to have some capabilities.

He figured out my identity in no time.

It seems there will be no problems entrusting this case to him,” he mused.

Unable to contain his amusement, Sir Peel responded, “I’ve always trusted Officer Arthur’s abilities, not because of his deduction this time, but because of his remarkable gift of turning decay into magic with his oratory skills.”

The Duke of Wellington, puzzled, asked, “Oratory skills?”

Sir Peel nodded and then pointed to his chest, “Your Grace, next time you wish to inquire about someone’s identity, you might want to tuck away that name-engraved pocket watch hanging on your chest first.”