The Shadow of Great Britain

309: Chapter 199: The Book of Perfume 309: Chapter 199: The Book of Perfume After assigning the tasks for the coming days to Fiona, Arthur lifted his hat to bid her farewell.

“Don’t be upset, Fiona, think of the bright side.

Once this job is done, you’ll transform into a little rich lady.

Six hundred pounds in compensation, enough for you to fill an entire closet with lovely dresses and stack your dressing table, not to mention, you could even buy a small house for yourself.”

Fiona glanced at him irritably, “Why do you always pick me for these tasks?

Although the pay isn’t bad, my people aren’t professional trackers, and they’re all delicate ladies.

Don’t you have a shred of sympathy?”

“You’re right, Fiona.”

Arthur nodded slightly as he sipped his coffee: “Exactly because they aren’t professionals, and they are delicate ladies, nobody would expect them to be tracking anyone.

That’s your advantage.

Can you imagine someone like me trying to follow people?

If Mr.

Bernie Harrison discovered me tailing him, he’d definitely think I was planning to rob him somewhere secluded.

But if he noticed he was being followed by a lady, say, you, he wouldn’t think that way.

Instead, he might even think it’s because of his charm and stop to chat with you longer.

Trust me, I know what I’m talking about here.”

“But your whole theory works only if you are pretty.” Fiona stood up and straightened her corset-restrained waist, proudly saying, “Mr.

Hastings, you are lucky, my girls are all quite beautiful.”

“You’re not wrong,” Arthur agreed, “Otherwise, my friend Alexander, that pudgy Frenchman, wouldn’t have been caught by you all.

Besides being good at writing, he has quite high standards for beauty.

Speaking of which, Alexander didn’t come home last night again, did he end up with you guys?”

“I don’t know, but as far as I know, no Frenchmen fell into our trap yesterday.

Maybe you should check the West District.

There are others in this business there, and I have a few contacts’ cards here, do you need them?”

After thinking for a while, Arthur finally extended his hand: “Just give them to me.

Hopefully, Alexander just got tricked by someone and didn’t end up drunk in the Thames River, otherwise I’ll have to hire someone to fish him out.”

“We also offer recovery services, but considering your friend’s size, we’d have to charge double.”

Upon hearing this, Arthur just raised an eyebrow: “Then he might as well rot in the river.

I was thinking it’s about time to teach him a lesson anyway; that fat man has been living too carelessly since he wrote half of ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’.”

“What’s up with him?”

Arthur leaned back in his chair, “He paid his rent in advance to me recently.”

Fiona asked curiously, “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Arthur replied helplessly, “The problem is, he paid for thirty years in advance.

He also told me that if he unfortunately dies young, like in a fire, his ashes should also stay there.”

Hearing this, Fiona laughed and covered her mouth: “If that’s the case, even if you don’t pay me, I’d have to send someone to fish him out of the Thames.”

“Suit yourself, but after you fish him out, remember to burn him for me.

Oh, and add some extra olive oil, Alexander is a great patriot, I believe he’d appreciate this French culinary method.”

Fiona stood by the door, pushing it open: “Mr.

Hastings, cremation is neither in line with church rites nor is it legal.”

With that, she snapped the door shut and half-lifted her skirt as she descended the stairs.

Through the not-so-thick door and walls, her voice could still be heard from the first floor: “Mr.

Martin!

Is cooking supposed to be this slow?

Mr.

Hastings is upstairs almost starving to death!”

Agares leaned against the windowsill, murmuring, “Aside from being a bit chatty, Miss Yvonne is quite competent overall, Arthur, you chose rightly.”

Arthur, leaning in his chair, flipping through a book, spoke, “Aren’t you the same?

I chose the right man and ghost.

If we still can’t find out anything this time, I’ll have nothing more to say.”

The Red Devil shifted his gaze: “Arthur, what are you looking at?”

He leaned in to read the text on the page, “Carefully blend various sweet or bitter orange blossoms together, then mix with vegetable oil extracted from orange tree bark, and finally distill to produce perfume.

Hmm?

Arthur, what do you mean?

Still shocked by the women’s clothing Victor brought you?

After pondering for half a year, you finally plan to try it yourself?”

“Not exactly, you need a proportionate figure for women’s clothing.

My height is much too tall for an average London gentleman, and it’s too conspicuous.

Being too noticeable isn’t good for espionage work.”

“Then why are you looking at this?”

“I don’t know, I just picked it up and started reading.

Fiona brought this book; I guess she bought it from some roadside stall.

I’ll mention it to Mr.

Martin later and put it away for her.

After all, such a book isn’t cheap.”

The Red Devil flipped through the book and glanced at the cover, “Hmm…

‘The Book of Perfumes,’ the magazine title is quite artistic, sounds like our Hell’s Cursed Magic.”

Arthur, leaning back in his chair, spoke, “This magazine seems rather popular among the ladies; I even heard some gentlemen discussing it at a party recently.

After the July Revolution last year, quite a few French perfumers fled to London to escape the turmoil.

There’s one called Riddle who teaches everyone how to blend cologne on ‘The Book of Perfumes,’ allegedly making a fair amount of money.”

“How so?” Agares raised an eyebrow and smirked, “Playing Arthur Sigma in ‘British’ isn’t satisfying enough for you?

Now you’re eyeing teaching everyone how to make perfumes?

I’ve got a recipe here, for the low price of one soul.

After using it, not just the ladies, even an elephant would be knocked out by the smell.

Arthur, how about it?

Fair price, isn’t it?”

Arthur glanced at him, “Is that even perfume?”

“Perfume is just a name, why fuss over it?” Agares replied earnestly, “Anyway, my recipe smells great and it is indeed a liquid; I can’t be bothered with the rest.”

Arthur tapped his fingertips on the table, pondered for a while, and then suddenly asked, “Are you sure it’s really effective on elephants?”

Agares was just joking with Arthur, but taken aback by his question.

He looked alert, “What exactly are you planning to do with elephants?”

Arthur pulled out paper and pen, “I have no plans for the elephants, but if you can guarantee the recipe works on elephants and pythons, maybe I should consider buying a batch for Eld.

Considering that he and I were classmates at the University of London for so many years, I think I ought to consider something for my old buddy’s safety.

Even from the standpoint of advancing science, I can’t afford to let Charles lose his research.”

Agares, hearing this, pinched his nose and waved his hand dismissively, “I thought it was something serious.

Don’t worry about Eld; the managers of Heaven and Hell have some brains, they won’t be looking for trouble anytime soon.”

With that, Agares slapped ‘The Book of Perfumes’ again, “So, what do you plan to do next?

Excuse my bluntness, Arthur, but relying solely on Fiona’s findings probably won’t be enough to solve your current predicament.

I think Devils are more reliable than women.

What do you say, the offer I made this morning still stands, and I can give you an extra discount.”

Unmoved by Agares’s offer of a discount, Arthur continued flipping through ‘The Book of Perfumes’ and said,

“I recall that Bernie Harrison is also a doctor and pharmacist; he started his political career by selling various cosmetics and recommending suitable products to dignitaries and ladies at parties.

If Fiona and her team can’t make a breakthrough with Mr.

Harrison, maybe I should take a stroll on Regent Street.

I remember there are many cosmetics shops there, and as a notable figure in the industry, Mr.

Harrison would certainly be known there.

By the way, Agares, bundling deals won’t work with me.

Instead of wasting your breath here, you might as well write the next issue of ‘British’ for me.

The readers have been complaining that the ‘Hastings Case Files’ have slowed down recently, and the plot isn’t progressing as powerfully as before, especially the story about King Solomon which is really dry.

You must understand, the sales of ‘British’ directly affect our standard of living and quality of life.

I’m fine subsisting on bread daily since I’m a country lad from York and have been through tougher times, but it’s different for you.

You’re a noble Duke from Hell; you need to maintain a higher standard of living.

As a Contractor, I’m inclined to satisfy you as much as possible within my capabilities.

But if you keep this up, I’ll have to cut your wine budget this month.

You know, the Burgundy wine is quite expensive outside.

A regular guy like me, who grew up tumbling in pigsties, absolutely can’t fall into the capitalists’ consumerism trap.”

With that, Arthur stood up, clutching ‘The Book of Perfumes,’ and headed outside.

The Red Devil watched Arthur’s retreating back, took a long time to recover, then slapped the table and cursed loudly, “Hey!

Arthur, dammit!

Weren’t you just cursed at once before?

Why do you still hold a grudge till now?”