The Shadow of Great Britain

102: Chapter 62 Bright Star, Son of the Morning 102: Chapter 62 Bright Star, Son of the Morning Greenwich District, nightfall had already descended.

On Tuesday night, the sky was filled with stars.

And beneath that starry sky, on the rooftop of a small building, Arthur was holding a naval monocular and looking towards a house across the street.

This was the rented dwelling of the new chief constable of the Greenwich Police District, Clayden Jones.

Through the lens, Arthur’s eyes, tinged with red, saw a dark shadow behind the curtains of the house.

It seemed that Chief Jones was arranging his gear, a police sword, and a flintlock pistol issued by the police station.

Beyond that, Arthur also glimpsed the vague shapes of several necklaces and rings.

The perspective of the telescope shifted to the alley next to Jones’s rented dwelling, where Tom was leaning against the wall and dozing off.

And on the second floor of the inn next door, there was Tony, giving Arthur a thumbs up to signal that all was well.

And on the streets was Officer Dennis Lloyd of the Greenwich Police District, carrying out his normal nighttime patrol duties in his police uniform.

Arthur put away the telescope and couldn’t help but admire, “This thing I borrowed from Eld is really useful, the Royal Navy indeed has many good things I didn’t know about.”

Standing by his side, Agares was also eagerly observing the entire street through the telescope.

The Red Devil chuckled, waving at Arthur while he looked, “Come on, Arthur, I have something good to show you.

The nights in Greenwich always reveal some different pleasures.”

Arthur took the telescope from Red Devil’s hand, and after a glance, he couldn’t help but frown and said,

“Three men and one woman?

They can play all they want, but they better not make any trouble that results in a fatality.

If such an incident happens because of this, I wouldn’t even know how to explain the situation to Scotland Yard!”

Dong!

Dong!

Dong!

Midnight had arrived, and the sound of the church bell echoed from not far away.

Arthur looked down at his watch; the hour hand pointed to twelve, the hunting season had begun.

The curtains of Jones’s house were slightly drawn apart, revealing a pair of eyes that glanced over the situation on the street, watching as Officer Dennis Lloyd walked away into the distance.

Jones took a slight breath, as the promise Clemens had made to him rang in his ears.

——Once the Whig Party takes office, you’ll replace Arthur Hastings as the chief of the Greenwich Police District.

Jones clenched his fist, murmuring to himself, “In this moment lies life or death, wealth or poverty.”

His wife sat worriedly on the bed, looking at him, “Clayden, are you…

are you alright?”

Jones turned around, glanced at his three children who were already asleep in bed, then smiled and sat next to his wife, gently touching her face.

“Don’t worry, I’m just stepping out for a moment; I’ll be back soon.”

His wife asked, “But…

it’s so late now, what are you going out for?

Clayden, didn’t you say the station granted you leave?

With your serious injuries, you should be recovering.”

Hearing this, Jones also became emotional, and with a smile pressing his lips, he said, “It’s minor to be injured, the main thing is making money.

I want to buy you a beautiful new dress so that you can live like a real lady.

The kids will soon start school too; I must save some tuition fees for them, I…

”

Mrs.

Jones interrupted by lifting a hand to cover his mouth, “Clayden, stop, I beg you, no more.”

With tears in her eyes, she pleaded, “You’ve brought home money continuously for more than half a year, I’ve asked other officers’ wives, and they told me their husbands don’t bring home as much as you do.

Clayden, tell me, tell me the truth, what exactly have you been doing these past six months?”

Upon hearing this, Officer Jones also fell silent.

He looked at his tearful wife, and pulled her into his arms.

“My dear, I had no choice.

I want us to live a better life, but the price of a good life is that I need to do some things that others are afraid to do.

That’s the world for you; if you don’t take advantage of others, someone else will take advantage of you.”

Mrs.

Jones shook her head, raised her tear-stained face, and held her husband’s face in her hands.

She always felt that his face was so familiar, yet so foreign.

“Clayden, you’ve grown a beard, you didn’t use to.

I remember back when we lived in the countryside, you were a healthy, sunny young man.

We lived tightly back then, worrying about the next day’s meals every day, but our lives were solid, not like now, living in constant fear every day.”

Mrs.

Jones shakily pulled out a small redwood box from under the bed.

It was a token of affection Jones had made for her with his own hands.

Seeing the box, Jones couldn’t help but smile, “You’ve kept it all this time?”

Mrs.

Jones didn’t speak.

She slowly lifted the lid of the box, which neatly contained seventy-five pounds.

Wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes, she smiled at Jones and said, “Pay them back with this.

I haven’t spent a penny of it.

Your salary isn’t much, but it’s a lot better than before.

If we start over, there will surely be a bright future.”

“Clayden, don’t go tonight.

I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling.

Please, just stay tonight.

Stay with me and spend time with the children.

Since we came to London, they have seldom seen you awake.”

Jones looked at the money and then at his wife’s face.

Although he was smiling, there seemed to be an indescribable pain in his smile.

“It’s too late…

it’s all too late…

Even if I wanted to get out, they wouldn’t let me.”

“But don’t worry, I won’t be in trouble.

I’m connected to many important people higher up, and there are even more important people above them.”

“Everyone’s trying to make a living on this boat; they can’t just watch it sink, can they?”

He stood up, ready to push the door open and leave.

But before he could step out, Mrs.

Jones rushed in front of him and clung to his hands tightly.

“You can’t go anywhere today!”

Jones looked at his wife, just shook his head with a smile, lifted his hands, and one by one pried her fingers open.

He whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry, my dear.

I’ve gone too far, so far that I can’t turn back.”

…

Arthur stood on the rooftop, witnessing all that transpired.

Red Devil, for some reason, had decided to reveal the entire scene and dialogues before his eyes.

Arthur, puffing on his pipe, leisurely smoked and asked, “Agares, what are you doing?”

Red Devil looked at the pale crescent moon, his face bathed in moonlight revealing a meaningful smile.

“Arthur, isn’t that what you said?

You want to know everything.

Since you want to know it all, I’ll grant your wish.

This is a special service, free of charge, no commitments necessary.”

Arthur smoked the last bit of tobacco from his pipe, then tapped the ashes out on the railing.

“A Devil’s free service?

Am I the first to enjoy such treatment?”

Agares just smiled, “Not really, although it’s true that this service hasn’t been offered to anyone for a long time.”

Arthur cast him a glance, said nothing, and walked down the stairs, step by step.

Red Devil asked, “Where are you going?”

Arthur’s voice floated back, “To Fred’s detective agency.

Since Jones has decided to go, I might as well intercept him there and save the trouble of running around.”

Agares watched his receding figure, raised his palm, and his fingertip danced with flames.

He looked up at the stars in the sky, mumbling words only Devils would understand, as if posing a question, or perhaps providing an answer.

Memories spanning a millennium flooded his mind again.

He seemed to have doubts and appeared confused.

“Bright morning star, son of the dawn, how you have fallen from the heavens!

You who laid low the nations, how have you been cut down to the ground?

You said in your heart: I will ascend to the heavens; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of Mount Zaphon.

I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.

Yet you are brought down to the realm of the dead, to the depths of the pit.

Those who see you stare at you, they ponder your fate: Is this the man who shook the earth and made kingdoms tremble, the man who made the world a wilderness, who overthrew its cities and would not let his captives go home?

All the kings of the nations lie in state, each in his own tomb.

But you are cast out of your tomb like a rejected branch; you are covered with the slain, with those pierced by the sword, those who descend to the stones of the pit.

Like a corpse trampled underfoot, you will not join them in burial, for you have destroyed your land and slaughtered your people.

The offspring of the wicked will never be mentioned again.”

Agares opened the parchment scroll tucked under his arm, pushed his monocle, and muttered to himself.

“Come on, Arthur, let’s see what choice you will make.”