The Shadow of Great Britain

293: 192nd Chapter: France’s Fouché?

No, it’s Britain’s Hastings (4K) 293: 192nd Chapter: France’s Fouché?

No, it’s Britain’s Hastings (4K) London, Bayswater District, Number 36 Lancaster Gate, Hastings Residence.

Disraeli sat at the dining table, excitedly tapping the surface with two fingers.

This self-proclaimed naturally excellent gentleman, after so many years of adversity, was finally tasting victory for the first time.

His joy was written all over his face, as the gentleman who usually endeavored to present himself with a respectable appearance, fashionable attire, and a cool, reticent demeanor had today transformed into a chatterbox.

From the moment he stepped through Arthur’s front door, he hadn’t stopped talking incessantly.

“Damn!

The first issue’s entire print run of one thousand five hundred copies of “The Times” sold out, and we even had to rush to print an additional thousand copies.

Although this includes eight hundred free promotional copies distributed at the Coburg Theatre, for a magazine that has just launched, this is still a great victory!

I knew it, the reason my previous “Representative” failed was solely due to that bitch Mori’s undermining.

Running a newspaper or magazine isn’t that hard!”

Taking on the role of the accountant for “The Times” momentarily, Dickens bit on his pen and looking at the ledger before him, said, “We sold more than two thousand five hundred copies, and we’ve also received over a hundred yearly subscription requests.

Perhaps we can start considering hiring a few newspaper delivery boys.”

Arthur, upon hearing this and while looking at the newspaper, replied, “Perhaps there’s no need to rush.

I have a certain amount of free postal delivery benefits at the General Post Office every year, and I haven’t used any of it this year.

It’s already November; my allocation should be sufficient to handle this year’s magazine deliveries.

Next year, if the distribution increases, maybe we could consider utilizing the Rothschild courier service.

Everyone says that apart from banking, the Rothschild Family does the best in courier services.

And since we have a shareholding connection with them, I believe they would be more than happy to take on this order.”

Upon hearing this, Eld couldn’t help but whistle and said, “Arthur, can you stop being so parsimonious?

The first issue sold two thousand five, the next will be five thousand, and the one after that ten thousand.

We’ll soon be a major magazine.

What’s the big deal in hiring two delivery boys?”

Darwin, overhearing this, couldn’t resist challenging him, “What makes you so confident?”

Eld patted his chest proudly and said, “Of course, it’s because of my strong sales ability!

Didn’t you know?

Out of the first issue’s two thousand five hundred copies, I sold two hundred myself!”

“Ha?”

Everyone turned their attention to Eld after hearing this, setting aside their work in hand.

Dickens quickly flipped through the ledger he had and, catching sight of a figure, exclaimed, “It’s really true, Mr.

Carter sold a total of two hundred sixty-two copies these past few days, almost double the sales of the best-performing bookstore.”

Arthur looked at Eld, who seemed as if he could hardly keep his backside on the ground, stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment, and then spoke.

“Eld, I thought I had always held you in high regard, but now in hindsight, perhaps I still underestimated you.

Judging from your ability to sell a literary magazine, the education from the University of London’s Classics department is indeed excellent.

Can you tell me how exactly did you do it?”

Darwin couldn’t help but look at him more highly and admitted, “I must say, Eld, you are now held in higher esteem in my mind than a monkey.”

Upon hearing this, Eld straightened up with a grin, placed one hand on his chest, and gave a slight bow, “There’s no need to thank me, I’ve merely made a minor contribution.”

The Great Dumas fished out a penny and tossed it at his head, “Cut the crap, just tell us how you did it!”

Eld caught the penny and glared at the Great Dumas, “Fatso, I’m in a good mood today so I’ll let it slide, but if you’re disrespectful like that again, I just might…”

The Great Dumas leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, legs shaking, “Just tell everyone about that night at the Coburg Theatre with Miss Coconut Tree…”

Eld, hearing this, cut him off quickly and turned to Arthur, saying, “Do you remember that old man I told you about who sold one-penny newspapers on Christmas Road in Greenwich?”

Arthur, upon hearing this, simply recounted what Eld had previously told him, “From Central Street going into Christmas Road, walk about two hundred feet and then turn left.

There’s an alleyway with two chimneys, every Wednesday afternoon from three to five, as long as it’s not pouring rain, there will be a man over fifty wearing a grey hat and a black coat…”

Eld interrupted with a mischievous smile, “I knew you went.”

Arthur just shrugged, “Eld, I used to be Greenwich’s Police Superintendent, and vendors like him who sell unstamped newspapers are definitely seen as committing a crime by the police force.”

Eld was taken aback, “You arrested him?

No, that can’t be right; he was still there when I went a few days ago!”

Arthur explained, “I saw that he was remorseful, so I didn’t make a big fuss.

However, to prevent him from reverting to his old ways, I required him to report to me every Wednesday so that I could verify his recent criminal activity.”

Eld responded with admiration, “Damn, you get better treatment than I do!”