The Shadow of Great Britain

723: Chapter 347 Hastings’s Secret_2 723: Chapter 347 Hastings’s Secret_2 However, Annie wasn’t upset because she had someone she liked.

If possible, they should let that heartless man find a job working for Mr.

Hastings.

She didn’t expect the guy to be ambitious; all she wanted was for him not to spend all day drinking and causing trouble with the hoodlums at the docks.

Annie wiped the tables absentmindedly, lost in thought.

Suddenly, the wind chimes hanging at the tavern’s door jingled.

Annie put away the rag, looked up, and exclaimed with surprise, “Mr.

Hastings?”

Arthur glanced at the local thugs in the tavern whom he knew all too well, removed his hat, and said, “Good evening, miss.

Is your uncle here?

I’ve reserved a private room with him.”

“My uncle is in the kitchen.

He said it’s your first visit this year, and he wants to treat you well, to shake off the bad luck you brought back from Liverpool.”

“No need to be so polite,” Arthur joked.

“I’m not demanding.

Just as long as Mr.

Martin doesn’t put anything extra in my food.”

“You’re overthinking it,” Annie replied with a laugh.

“He may be stingy and have a poor memory, but he always remembers what you ask of him.”

“Alright, then I’ll head up.”

Arthur was about to go upstairs when suddenly, Annie called out to him, “Wait, Mr.

Hastings!”

“Hmm?” Arthur turned around and asked, “Is there something else?”

“It’s just…”

Annie didn’t know how to begin.

As a country girl from Kent, she only remembered that her mother would always offer something when asking for a favor.

But what kind of gift could she possibly give to a man like Mr.

Hastings?

Farm produce like eggs didn’t seem like something Mr.

Hastings was in short supply of.

Arthur could tell Annie was uncomfortable and he asked, “What’s the matter?

Someone giving you trouble?

Or has your uncle not been paying you properly again?”

“No, it’s not about my uncle.

He’s stingy with my wages, sure, but if I want to buy something inexpensive, he usually agrees…”

Resting his hand on the banister, Arthur teased, “Miss, if you ever have such troubles again, you could come to the London District Prosecutor’s Office for help.

Civil cases aren’t within our jurisdiction, but considering our newly recruited prosecutors are mostly inexperienced, I believe many would be willing to take on minor cases for practice.”

As soon as Arthur had finished speaking, a commotion started outside the tavern.

With a bang, the tavern door was kicked open.

A man with a swollen, bruised face was thrown onto the floor of the tavern, followed by several burly thugs entering one after another, and then a sharp, disdainful snort.

High heels clicked on the floorboards, and Fiona, dressed in a black and red dress, was wearing a wide-brimmed hat slanted on her head and adorned with a fluffy white feather.

She stood beside the man with a slender cigarette holder clasped in her hand, which was gloved in white lace: “Martin?

Show yourself if you’re alive, or I’ll pry open your coffin lid tonight!”

Martin pushed aside the kitchen’s partition curtain, rubbing his hands and walking out with a forced smile: “Miss Yvonne, it’s not good for a young lady to be angry so frequently, look, it just mars your naturally beautiful face.”

Fiona took a drag from her cigarette and exhaled a stream of smoke right into Martin’s face: “Mr.

Martin, I didn’t want to interfere with your business.

You’re a businessman, and so am I; we should be amicable and make a profit together.

But your niece’s choice of a man has been freeloading in my territory.

If I turn a blind eye to it, pretending to be oblivious, it’d tarnish the rules of our trade.

If everyone were to act like him, how could we continue our business?”

“Ah…” Martin glanced at the barely alive thug on the ground: “You mean him?

You don’t have to spare me any courtesies; I don’t acknowledge such waste.

Whatever you decide to do with him is up to you—sink him to the bottom of the Thames, or sell him as a slave to America; you decide.”

“Uncle!”

Upon hearing this, Annie hurried out: “How can you treat John like this?”

Martin simply glared at his niece: “What are you doing?

You haven’t finished your shift yet!”

He took a broom from behind the counter and handed it to Annie: “If you’re bored, here’s a new job for you—sweep that pile of social trash out to the street.”

“Huh?!” Fiona stepped in front of Annie and confronted Martin: “Martin, what is this supposed to mean?

We haven’t settled our matter yet.

If you don’t pay off his debt, he can’t leave.”

“Fiona.”

Arthur, who had been leaning against the banister watching the scene, raised his hand and greeted her: “Don’t make a scene, I don’t want to be called to duty after hours.

How much does he owe you?

I’ll pay it off for him.”

“Hmm?”

Fiona, about to lash out at her name being called, shifted her gaze and caught sight of the man in the black hat on the stairs.

The swear words ready on her tongue took a detour back to her gut.

“Oh!

My dear, so you’re here!

You’re as generous and kind-hearted as ever.

Since that’s the case, I agree,” she said.

Fiona tipped her cigarette holder and disdainfully kicked the guy on the floor: “You lucky bastard, you ran into the kindest man in all of London today.

But if you dare do this again, you won’t be so lucky next time.”