The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 801: Chapter 375: It’s Raining in London (6K2)_3

Realizing the severity of the situation, Ledley’s first reaction was to deploy troops to support the Financial City. But before he could issue the order, he found himself in a dilemma.

Deploy troops, but where are the troops now?

No matter whether it is the elite forces or the irregular troops, all have been dispatched for emergencies at this moment. Even the bow street patrolmen reserved for backup have been sent to Greenwich.

Currently, he only has a handful of stationed officers who barely escaped from riot areas, and even if he gathers all of them, there are only about twenty or thirty.

As for the dozen or so office staff who are handling urgent communications from various police districts in the first-floor hall, regardless of their combat effectiveness, if Ledley were to deploy them now, who would handle any special police situation that may arise later?

Regarding the Guard Cavalry responsible for defense nearby, Ledley could not be sure if these proud gentlemen would even listen to him, let alone defy military orders and head to the Financial City.

Moreover, even if the Guard Cavalry were willing to go, who would guard Whitehall Street after their departure?

If the mob took advantage of the situation and burned the Cabinet departments on Whitehall Street, smashed the Prime Minister’s Office at 10 Downing Street…

The severity and the malicious impact of these incidents might be worse than letting the Financial City spiral out of control.

Just as Ledley was about to kneel and pray to God, he heard the rumbling sound of rolling wheels.

The door of the black carriage opened amid the neighing of the horses, and a pair of hard high boots stepped onto the pavement of Whitehall Street with a crisp sound.

Arthur pushed back his messy hair and put on the high-top hat, standard among Scotland Yard officers: “Ledley, you look terrible.”

Ledley took a deep breath and saluted: “Sir, I finally understand why the followers were so happy to see Jesus resurrected. For I’m feeling the same way.”

Arthur, with a pipe in his mouth and striking a match, glanced at him: “Are you wishing me dead?”

“No, Sir, I absolutely don’t mean that,” Ledley replied, “But if you had come a few minutes later, I would feel very close to death.”

Arthur looked at the weary, despondent patrolmen covered in dust and dirt who had narrowly escaped from chaos in various districts outside Scotland Yard, and nodded slightly: “I think I know what’s going on.”

Just as he was about to take a puff, suddenly, a raindrop the size of a bean fell from the sky, extinguishing the glowing tip of his pipe.

Arthur looked up at the overcast sky and shook his head slightly: “So, can you brief me on the current situation? Where is Lord Rowan?”

Upon hearing this, Ledley hurriedly spilled everything he knew in a rush.

He then dejectedly concluded: “Sir, the Financial City needs reinforcements, but as you can see, we only have these remnants of defeated troops left.”

Arthur scanned around at the dejected faces of the officers and suddenly said: “Remnants of defeated troops? I don’t think so.”

Plunkett also stepped down from the carriage, with two holsters hanging from each side of his waist and a newly adjusted Colt revolving rifle slung over his back.

The sharpshooter replaced his handgun in its holster, and with hands on his hips, he agreed: “I don’t think so either.”

“Don’t think so? Why?”

Ledley was confused, not understanding why Arthur and Plunkett were giving high praise to these subordinates who had just suffered a significant defeat.

However, Plunkett didn’t explain but instead turned to wink at Arthur: “Sir, the soldiers are good, but being able to regain their courage depends on…”

Arthur, catching the hint, nodded knowingly and stepped towards the officers huddled by the wall.

Their nice Scotland Yard uniforms were soiled with unknown blood and dust. Each one was injured to some extent, and seeing high-ranking officers arrive, they didn’t even dare to look Arthur in the eye.

But soon, a round of applause caught their attention. When they looked up, they saw Arthur’s eyes filled with appreciation.

“Gentlemen, I know what you’re worried about. You fear blame, scorn from the public, for failing to defend the districts you were assigned to. I know how you see yourselves—you think you are the remnants of defeated troops, scattered soldiers, unqualified failures.

However, I disagree with you. If you were truly failures, you would have long cried your way home to your mothers. But what do I see here? You lads did not do that! Despite the recent defeat, you bravely traversed several blocks, facing numerous dangers and attacks, to report back here. What does that mean? It means you still have honor in your hearts!”

As soon as Arthur finished speaking, many officers’ dim eyes brightened, and their faces began to regain vitality.

Suddenly, a young patrolman stood up, took off his hat, and said: “Sir… Sir, I am very sorry.”