The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 1599 - 22: Reunion with an Old Acquaintance (Part 2)

Chapter 1599: Chapter 22: Reunion with an Old Acquaintance (Part 2)

As soon as Arthur’s boot stepped on the carpet behind the store door, he could hear a hint of fear behind the greeting.

His gaze swept across the store’s contents like a knife, then landed on the face behind the counter.

The elderly man with gray sideburns huddled behind the counter with a half-bent posture, wearing a brown wool vest washed to white, with cuffs frayed and severely faded. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crowded together, with one hand resting on the counter and the other hand suspended in the air, not knowing where to place it.

"Mr. Fagin?" Arthur’s tone was calm, as if reminding, yet also confirming: "Long time no see."

"Ar...Arthur Superintendent!" Fagin’s voice carried a slight tremor, as if the words had struck him in the lung: "Ah no, I suppose you’re no longer a superintendent...I heard, I heard you’ve been...promoted, perhaps even became a Sir?"

"I’m just a free man now, a man out for a stroll." Arthur walked to the counter, picked up a raven wood carving from the display and started playing with it: "I thought it was something else, a raven’s lair behind with a bow and arrow...Is this store yours?"

"Ah, yes...it’s mine." Fagin’s mouth twitched, barely squeezing out a smile: "The store is small with thin profits, relying on regular customers to sustain."

"Regular customers..." Arthur savored the words repeatedly: "Do you mean Fred?"

Upon hearing the name "Fred," Fagin was instantly terrified: "Please don’t joke, everyone knows Fred went to the bottom of the sea because of you. How could he come looking for me along the Thames River? You....perhaps you might not believe, but you know, people grow old and often dream at night. Once, I dreamed I was standing on a seemingly endless street, with no one around except me, walking with a lantern, my legs crippled, yet never reaching the end. Suddenly, a door in the sky opened, a voice drifted out, ’Enough, Fagin, enough.’ That voice...I dare not say it’s God, but it indeed didn’t sound human. It told me that if I didn’t repent, I’d end up walking with Fred...walking endlessly on that street."

As he spoke, moisture genuinely appeared at the corners of his eyes.

Arthur gently put the raven wood carving back on the counter: "So it was God who sent you a dream, I thought you turned over a new leaf because seeing the ’Jew’ Solomon getting caught scared you."

Speaking of the ’Jew’ Solomon, he was undoubtedly a kingpin in London’s underworld back in the day.

Fred, who perished at Arthur’s hands, was involved in dealing in stolen goods, while Fagin’s crime chiefly lay in inciting juvenile delinquency.

But Solomon? He was virtually a combination of Fred and Fagin.

Solomon managed a highly structured fencing network in London, specializing in acquiring various stolen goods from pickpockets, then reselling them for profit. Solomon even arranged for the ’requirements’ of customers with thieves before goods were stolen, almost offering customized criminal services.

Moreover, unlike Fagin’s laissez-faire education for young pickpockets, Solomon not only provided temporary shelter and food for homeless children he took in, but also subjected them to stringent professional training.

Once they completed their training, Solomon would set performance targets for them, and if these petty pickpockets failed to hand over stolen goods on time, they faced severe penalties.

As time went on, Solomon was no longer satisfied with petty theft, but began inducing the children to break into empty homes or commit robbery in broad daylight.

Due to the heinous nature of Solomon’s crimes, the government had already apprehended him back in 1827, detaining him in Clare Kenwell Prison in central London for the offense of dealing in stolen goods.

However, shortly after his arrest, Solomon bribed some legal officials to win a chance for bail, seizing the opportunity to flee to the United States.

The helpless British court had no choice but to continue adjudicating his case in 1828, convicting him in absentia and issuing a warrant for his arrest.

Just when everyone thought Solomon would likely escape legal punishment, unexpected news suddenly arrived.

Two years ago, the Tasmanian colonial government unexpectedly announced that Solomon was captured in the capital Hobart, with the reason for his capture being his secret visit to see his wife who had been exiled there.

Fred ended up in a watery grave, Solomon couldn’t escape justice, and these events were evidently significant blows to various big and small bosses in London’s underworld.

Along with Scotland Yard’s police force continually expanding, and the increasingly professional investigative methods and ruthless actions of the Criminal Investigation Department and Police Intelligence Department...

All these developments made everyone feel that business was becoming increasingly hard to conduct.

Hence, quite a few crime bosses, having accumulated some savings, decided to transform their career paths while the economic situation still looked favorable, and Old Fagin was likely one of them.

Seeing that he couldn’t fool Arthur, Fagin replied profusely perspiring: "Mr. Hastings, I’ve confessed my wrongdoings. I remember you spared me years ago. After Solomon’s incident, I cleaned up my act. Used the saved money to open this small shop, surviving on old books, paintings, and antiques, never returning to that line of work."

"Perhaps, but this display, with its...raven." Arthur eyed the store’s contents: "Doesn’t seem sustainable relying solely on legitimate business."

Fagin scratched his head, as if wanting to explain but not knowing where to start, muttering humbly: "The market is bad...people now prefer the West District, not coming here...I...occasionally, some friends would send me small items, clearing old debts."

"Friends." Arthur stared at him: "Did they walk in on their own? Or did you have someone ’fetch’ them?"

"Not me!" Fagin abruptly lifted his head, frantically waving his hands: "Truly not me, even street thieves avoid my door now! Those items were brought by others, I take them because no one else wants to buy, no one dares take on jobs, they also know I won’t blabber. Rest assured, I no longer train kids to steal, that’s old history."

Arthur never intended to trouble this old ghost, Fagin had indeed done many misdeeds, and Arthur once contemplated dealing with him, but later decided not to pursue it thanks to Little Adam speaking well of him.

If not for coincidentally encountering him today, coupled with the old cop impulse to question a few things, Arthur might not even be bothered with this old man who hadn’t long to live. Who’d have thought, despite claiming to wash his hands of it, this old guy hadn’t truly cleaned up his act?

Arthur scanned the overly neat shop area, feigning enigma while leisurely asking, "Without something crucial, I wouldn’t come here, didn’t you find it...strange?"

"Strange?" Fagin instinctively repeated, his voice trembling.

"Hmm?" Arthur eyed the raven wood carving with a faint smile: "This raven is quite unique. Tell me, who would display such an inauspicious thing prominently in their shop these days? Old Fagin in a raven’s lair, either you’re expecting someone, or sending a message."

"It’s...just an ornament, nothing significant..."

Arthur’s voice suddenly turned a degree colder: "Fagin, I’ll give you one last chance, you better come clean with me. Have you recently received any questionable goods? I previously let you off because Adam pleaded on your behalf, assuring me you’d change your ways. But I didn’t expect, not only you didn’t change, instead you’ve become more audacious."

"I..." Fagin instinctively wanted to deny, but choked back the words.

His gaze avoided contact, accidentally clashing with Arthur’s faintly smiling eyes, immediately recoiling as if electrocuted.

"How...how did you know..." Fagin mumbled: "You’ve been out of Scotland Yard, haven’t you?"

Arthur leaned against the counter, not responding directly: "Paper can’t cover fire, this case, Scotland Yard couldn’t resolve, so they reached out to me, a retired officer."

Fagin’s heart tightened, legs weakening almost to the point of collapsing to the ground.

He swallowed saliva, bracing himself on the counter: "Damn! I knew that deal was anything but ordinary, if it were easy to move, they wouldn’t have handed those goods directly to me..."