The Shadow of Great Britain

240: Chapter 163: Media Empire and the Bare Pole Commander (5K) 240: Chapter 163: Media Empire and the Bare Pole Commander (5K) At night, West London, Bayswater, Lancaster Gate, No.

36.

The pathway beside Hyde Park was deserted, usually by this time, Arthur and the others had finished dinner and returned to their rooms for rest, but today the restaurant chairs were packed with young people of varied heights and builds from both sides of the English Channel.

The Red Devil sat swinging on a chandelier, legs crossed, looking from near to far.

Sitting to the right of the dining table were three Charleses, they were the utterly baffled Charles Darwin, the visibly uneasy Charles Wheatstone, and Charles Dickens, who was carrying a dark green canvas bag.

Equally imposing were those seated on the left side of the table, the newly rejected Avengers Alliance, vowing vengeance: the Frenchman Alexander Dumas, furiously scolding the British for their ignorance, the baffled Cambridge student Alfred Tennyson, and the outlandish Mr.

Eld Carter, who seemed entirely misplaced in this setting.

At the head of the table, next to Arthur, sat a man whose reputation in the British literary circles was utterly detestable, a failed parliamentary candidate who dreamt daily of Blackwood’s bankruptcy and liquidation—Mr.

Benjamin Disraeli.

Wheatstone tucked his head in, glancing nervously around the room, then carefully extended his hand, “Mr.

Hasting, I think there’s probably nothing for me here, perhaps I should leave.

You know how it is, I’ve been extremely busy lately, quite rushed with urgent orders.”

Upon hearing this, Arthur didn’t say much, simply pointing towards the door, “The door is that way.”

Having heard this, Wheatstone first paused, then burst out joyfully, “I just knew you were not completely insensitive.”

As he lifted his behind to leave his seat, he suddenly heard a snap, and a flintlock pistol was slapped onto the table.

Arthur pointed to the pistol, “The bullets are over here.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than Wheatstone plopped his behind back down, sighing to the heavens, “I’ve thought it over again; perhaps I’m not in such a rush after all.”

Tennyson, startled by the episode, had not such a deep understanding of Arthur nor was he aware of the complex grievances between Arthur and Wheatstone.

Looking at the gun on the table and then at the spacious and bright house, he tentatively asked, “Mr.

Hasting, may I boldly ask what it is you do for a living?”

Before Arthur could respond, Dumas was quick to answer for him, the large man leaning back in his chair and rattling off, “Mr.

Hasting’s lines of business are quite diverse: piracy on the high seas, financial insider dealing, labor fraud, street brawling, monkey breeding, secret imprisonments…

Basically, everyone you see here has been oppressed by Mr.

Hasting at some point.”

Arthur, hearing this, was not angered, merely stating calmly, “Alexander, now that the Tory cabinet has stepped down, so too has the Home Office’s surveillance order on you been withdrawn.

If you wish to move out, there’s no need to file an application with me.

But please, do remember to settle your rent before you leave.”

Dumas, one hand resting on the table and the other tossing a piece of candy into his mouth, added, “Now there’s even more, suppressing French republicanism.”

Tennyson, baffled by Dumas’s successive big words, asked, “Is Mr.

Hasting really that bad?

From that Gold Award-winning ‘Farewell to Cambridge,’ I thought he was quite a peaceful and romantic person.

By the way, Mr.

Hasting, I forgot to ask last time, which year did you graduate from Cambridge?

I believe that without being a student there, one might lack such deep affection for Cambridge!”

As soon as Tennyson had spoken, Eld couldn’t sit still any longer.

His eyes widened as he inquired, “Arthur’s poem won a Gold Award?

And he’s from Cambridge?

Are you sure you’re not joking?”

Seeing the situation escalate, Arthur quickly intervened, “Eld, I know you, as an Oxford graduate, naturally hold some animosity towards Cambridge, but that can’t be blamed on Alfred.

Besides, you get along fine with Charles, don’t you?

Have you forgotten?

He’s also a Cambridge graduate.

If you can get along well with Charles of Christ’s College, Cambridge, why can’t you get along with Alfred of Trinity College?”

Upon hearing that Tennyson was his fellow alumnus, Darwin’s demeanor warmed considerably, extending his hand toward him, “Mr.

Tennyson, please don’t mind my vulgar friend’s rudeness; as you understand, he served in the Royal Navy where sailors often use intense language to express friendship.”

“Is…

is that so?” Tennyson was skeptical.

However, thanks to Darwin’s explanation, they somehow muddled through the episode.

While the new editor Disraeli was occupied with reviewing submissions, everyone soon began to chat, and the atmosphere in the restaurant gradually livened up.

Amidst the lively talkers, Wheatstone remained restless, biting his lip and approaching Arthur to whisper, “Mr.

Hasting, what exactly did you bring me here today for?

Wasn’t the matter of the lost gun already settled?

Besides, you are running a literary magazine, what does that have to do with me, a man who deals in musical instruments?”

At these words, Arthur merely laughed, pressing him back into the chair beside him, “Charles, don’t be so anxious.

I truly consider you a friend; just think about it, hasn’t your business grown ever since you met me?

Haven’t you received quite a few orders for phonographs these last few days?”