The Shadow of Great Britain

633: Chapter 312: Breakthrough Point_3 633: Chapter 312: Breakthrough Point_3 Arthur simply shrugged.

“I haven’t traded money for a transitory affair, Fiona.

Your words are truly excessive and have hurt me deeply.”

“You…”

Fiona didn’t know if she was more angry or amused as she felt both emotions simultaneously.

“After all, you’re a big shot at Scotland Yard.

You’ve become more and more articulate.

But do you think that’ll let you off the hook?

In your dreams!

It’s just bad luck the Pole didn’t manage to blow you up.

Let me tell you, if I had been executing the plan, you and I would already be meeting in hell.”

Upon hearing this, Agares just pursed his lips and shook his head continuously.

“Look at this!

Look!

Arthur, you’ve got her so upset she’s nearly hysterical.

Even now, she’s dreaming of hell as if it’s a desirable destination.

It seems like what Aristotle said was right: if women are compared with men, they are more compassionate than just.”

Arthur looked at the upturned coffee table and the glass shards all over the floor and was about to pour Fiona a cup of tea to calm her down, but before he could even lift the teapot, he heard a loud bang as the door was violently kicked open.

Immediately after, a roar bellowed, “Nobody move!”

The Great Dumas, wielding two revolvers, strode into the room with his robust frame, followed by Scotland Yard officers entering one after another.

As their eyes met, Arthur glanced at the Great Dumas and a keen-to-show-loyalty Police Superintendent Jones, bending down to pick up a piece of broken glass.

“What’s all this about?” he asked.

The Great Dumas, after a quick survey of the mess, hummed thoughtfully before turning to look at Fiona, whose garments were slightly disheveled from the shock causing her to jump on the sofa.

He asked with implicit concern, “Arthur, you didn’t tell me.”

Arthur, taking off his white gloves, inquired, “What haven’t I told you?”

“Damn it!” The Great Dumas, scanning the room, replied, “Did we really have a dedicated medical care expenditure?

I always thought that was exclusive to the Liverpool Port Authority.”

“Of course, we do.

I always pay great attention to the welfare of our department’s employees,” replied Arthur.

Jones also sensed something amiss, “The Criminal Investigation Department has such a thing?”

The Great Dumas laughed heartily yet with a hint of embarrassment, “I see.

But how exactly does one become eligible for this benefit?”

Without elaborating further, Arthur motioned to the corner of his eye, then opened a drawer to retrieve a revolver.

“Like this.

I’ll count to three, and if you’re still here after I count to three, then in addition to health care, I can apply for Scotland Yard’s funeral expenses for you.”

“Damn, Arthur, you hogging all the good stuff for yourself?”

“Three…”

Snap!

In an instant, the room was empty, and even the door was kindly shut by the Great Dumas on his way out.

The room once again fell into silence and Arthur turned his gaze to Fiona.

“Perhaps we should start discussing something more serious.

It would indeed be a waste to have brought you from London for mere medical care alone.”

Fiona gave Arthur a glare, then straightened her scarf on her shoulder, and started to speak, “If that’s the reason you can’t withstand a frail lady’s shove, then I accept it.”

The Red Devil whistled, “Girl, don’t be too clever for your own good.

When the mind isn’t clear, any thought is superfluous.”

Fiona regained her composure and pulled out a file from her handbag.

“Regarding the Polish assassin’s wife—Agnieszka—that you asked me to investigate, I am pleased to inform you, Arthur, you might know her.”

“Oh?” Arthur reminisced.

“Have I had such an encounter with such a lady?”

Fiona rolled her eyes and continued, “Keep dreaming!

You should be glad you never had such an encounter with Agnieszka, because the guy who did was that idiot MP you took out—Bernie Harrison.”