The Shadow of Great Britain

262: Chapter 175: Uninvited Guest 262: Chapter 175: Uninvited Guest After leaving the residence of Duke Wellington, Arthur opted to walk through Hyde Park to save the money he would have otherwise spent on a carriage ride home.

Although his current income level was decent in London, Arthur had almost exhausted all his savings recently to fund a forthcoming newspaper.

Still, this was merely a drop in the bucket.

If it weren’t for the recent London Conference keeping him busy, he might have had to go to Lionel Rothschild at the London Stock Exchange to withdraw his £1000 worth of stocks.

The sun had just started to set, and under usual work circumstances, he would have had to return to his office at Scotland Yard to sit for a while longer.

He was able to leave work early today, thanks to the transfer request that Rowan, the Minister, had approved for him.

Now, he was no longer responsible for any specific police district in London but was specifically assigned to investigate criminal cases with significant social impact.

However, to be honest, although London was chaotic, most crimes were committed for money, so the types of cases generally centered on theft and robbery.

As for brutal murders that could cause social panic, they were indeed rare.

Since Arthur was transferred to the Criminal Investigation Department last week, he felt he was nearly idling away to the point of moulding.

That idleness was indeed Rowan’s ultimate goal.

If it were any other time, Arthur, left hanging for a week, would have already grown restless and planned to confront Rowan.

But ever since he mysteriously realized that he had Lord Brougham as a patron behind him, Arthur was gradually getting used to the late arrivals and early departures at work.

He knew that Minister Rowan’s reluctance to assign him tasks was not about sidelining him per the original plan, but rather he simply didn’t dare to do so.

Looking at the intentions of the Lord Chancellor’s Office and the Home Office, Arthur’s future role was likely to be as the police representative at the London Prosecution Service.

If Rowan angered him, any case Rowan wanted to handle in the future might not even need to go to the Magistrates’ Court; it could get dismissed right at Arthur’s level.

The other inspectors at Scotland Yard were also well aware of this, so during this period, they all welcomed him with smiles.

Even before lunchtime arrived, they were lining up outside his office door, inviting him for tea.

Arthur could skip work without cause, and no one dared say a thing about it, let alone complain that he was unfindable today since he had been running errands for Duke Wellington.

Despite the Duke being defeated in Parliament by the Whig Party and seeming at a weak point, only a fool would think they could step on this spiritual leader of the British Army without consequences.

Indeed, if anyone dared show even a slight disrespect for His Grace, they wouldn’t need to wait for trouble from the Army’s generals; those old subordinates from Scotland Yard who had once served under the Duke would ensure these disrespectful ones received a corrective dose first.

Everyone knew that even the former King George IV and the current King William IV had to speak politely with Duke Wellington.

Not taking him seriously was purely joking with one’s own career prospects.

Following behind Arthur, Agares flapped his black bat wings, while Red Devil rubbed his hands and chuckled mischievously, “Arthur, how does it feel?

Isn’t it exhilarating to get your salary without going to work?”

Arthur lit his pipe and replied while walking, “I must admit, it indeed feels exhilarating.

I can finally understand why those centrist MPs were so easily bought over by the Tory Party before.

Just by allying their single vote with the Tory Party, they could secure a job that requires doing nothing with a yearly salary of four to five hundred pounds.

Where else can you find such a deal?”

Red Devil chuckled mischievously, “Now that you’ve tasted this sweet fruit, haven’t you thought of changing your mind?

Join the Tory Party and maybe run for a seat in Parliament?”

Arthur exhaled a ring of smoke, “Sorry, Agares, even if you praise being an MP to the heavens, I’m not planning to become one.

Even if one day I’m forced to run for MP, I won’t join the Whig or Tory Party.

For both parties, it’s the centrists they need to woo.

As for those less influential backbenchers in their own party, whether they are assigned an official role or not, they are going to follow the party line anyway.

So why waste time and money on them?

After all, such cushy jobs are precious, and good steel should be used on the edge of the blade.”

Arthur had just finished speaking when he suddenly noticed an old man standing near his home, a man he didn’t recognize at all.

The old man looked up at the house number, then lowered his head to compare it meticulously with a small slip of paper he was holding.

Seeing this, Arthur couldn’t help but grow suspicious.

Pretending everything was normal, he approached enthusiastically and began, “Excuse me, sir, is there anything I can help you with?”

The old man turned back, took a look at the neatly dressed Arthur, and after a moment of thought, finally asked, “I appreciate your kind offer to help.

This unfortunate old fellow is indeed facing a bit of trouble.

Is this the residence of Mr.

Arthur Hastings?”

Upon hearing the other party mention it, Arthur finally remembered an anecdote he had encountered during his daily work.

Arthur began, “If you are here to see Mr.

Hastings, you might be disappointed.

He has been very busy recently, always leaving early and returning late, and it’s not easy to see him during the day.”

“Is that so?” The elderly gentleman chuckled upon hearing this, tapping his cane on the ground, “Well, seeing him was only incidental anyway, my main purpose is actually…”

But before he could finish his sentence, there came a surprised shout from behind Arthur, from Great Dumas, who was just returning from the market with a bag full of groceries.

“Monsieur Francois Vidocq?”

Francois Vidocq?

Upon hearing this name, Arthur immediately became highly alert.

He had thought that the elderly gentleman in front of him might be a neighbor who had just moved nearby, or possibly a thief scouting the place for a future burglary.

But he never imagined that the man with the mustache before him was none other than that old predecessor from the Paris police force, the head of the Paris Safety Patrol and the detective department of the Grand Paris Police Prefecture—Francois Vidocq.

Considering the special status of Great Dumas as a French fugitive and the notorious unpredictability of the French, Arthur casually moved to position himself between Vidocq and Dumas.

Yet, Arthur’s subtle movements did not escape Vidocq’s eyes; he clearly understood what Arthur was doing.

Vidocq spoke, “Mr.

Hastings, isn’t this behavior of yours a bit impolite?

Although Alexander’s head may indeed fetch a good price, I am not so desperate as to trade it for a bounty.”

Unperturbed by having his actions seen through, Arthur replied apologetically with a smile, “So, you’ve already noticed who I am.

With such sharp insight, it’s no wonder you have such a high reputation in the French police force.

I have nothing against you personally, in fact, I respect you quite a bit.

I bought your ‘Memoirs’ as soon as they were published in Britain; I must be among your first fans in Britain.

However, ensuring Mr.

Alexander Dumas’s safety is a directive from the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland’s Home Office.

Regardless of whether you harbor any ill will, I must remain as cautious as possible.

I hope you can understand that.”

Upon hearing this, Vidocq merely narrowed his eyes.

He seemed to dislike Arthur’s response somewhat.

“Well then…” He exhaled, appearing as though he didn’t want to argue with Arthur anymore.

But no sooner had he spoken than Vidocq suddenly leaned into Arthur with his shoulder.

Arthur, instead of dodging, stood his ground.

Shoulder to shoulder, Arthur remained unmoved, while the fifty-something Vidocq staggered, nearly falling to the ground.

Seeing this, Great Dumas quickly called out, “Mr.

Vidocq, you might want to save your strength.

In a fight, even two of you might not be a match for him.”

But it was too late; just as Vidocq raised his cane, Arthur deftly dodged to the side.

Then, appearing behind Vidocq, Arthur expertly locked his arm around Vidocq’s forearm and shoulder, applying a slight pressure, and swiftly subdued him.

Vidocq, his face contorted in pain, couldn’t help but curse aloud, “Damn!

If I were thirty years younger, you would be the one pinned down right now.”

Great Dumas shouted, “Arthur, that’s enough.

Mr.

Vidocq isn’t here to capture me.

We were acquainted back in France, and the little bounty on my head is hardly worth betraying our friendship.”

Raising an eyebrow, Arthur replied, “Alexander, that’s your claim.

If you end up captured back in France, I’m not involved.”

Great Dumas waved his hand dismissively, “No need for your concern, just let him go.”

Hearing this, Arthur finally released Vidocq’s arm, apologizing, “I’m sorry, sir, my reaction may have been a bit extreme.”

Vidocq rotated his arm, nursing his sore neck, and commented, “Young man, you certainly don’t lack strength.”

Seeing Vidocq freed, Great Dumas hurried over to support him, “You came to see me, must be for some matter, right?”

“Indeed, there’s a little something,” Vidocq admitted, pulling several letters from his jacket pocket and handing them over, “Someone asked me to bring these to you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur glanced at the envelopes, only to see one signature—Victor Hugo.