The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 932 - 31 Today’s events will surely be reciprocated_2

Actually, no one is following you. You feel like you’re being watched, but that’s completely just paranoia?

Out of a detective’s professional integrity and the ethical duty to deliver on the job paid for, Victor thought he couldn’t do such a thing.

Furthermore, if it was just him, it might be fine, but he had a British colleague with him.

If he muddles through like this, wouldn’t it make Scotland Yard look down on the Security Department?

In such a dilemma, Victor calmly spent this morning.

Actually, using the adjective ’calm’ isn’t accurate because, apart from the room they’re in, just listening it’s clear that the situation in other rooms is far from anything ’calm’. It’s practically a fierce battlefield, the cannon fire of the Battle of Austerlitz!

In the Battle of Austerlitz, it brought together Napoleon Bonaparte of the French Empire, Alexander I of the Russian Empire, and Francis II of the Holy Roman Empire.

Although the number of people in the few rooms next door might not necessarily be three, Arthur was sure that the soldiers commanded by the three Emperors perhaps didn’t outnumber the gentlemen and ladies in the other rooms. The scene of 73,000 French Army soldiers fighting against 86,000 soldiers of the Russo-Austrian coalition might not even be as thrilling as the scenes in the next rooms.

Arthur rested his chin in his hand, took a puff of his cigarette, and suddenly asked: "Mr. Victor, where do you think the battle has progressed?"

Victor carefully closed his ears and listened intently. A satisfied sigh and exhausted breath seemed to come from the next room: "A little snow falls, Napoleon is riding and surveying the battlefield. This Battle of Austerlitz ends with a brilliant victory for France. Afterwards, Austria and France should sign the ’Treaty of Pressburg’. Francis II will announce the withdrawal from the Anti-France Alliance, renouncing his title as ’Holy Roman Empire Emperor’."

Arthur overturned his pipe to clean the ashes: "I disagree with you. To me, this time it should be Alexander I and Francis II’s victory. Of course, I’m not doubting Napoleon’s capability, but after all, two fists can’t beat four hands. You know, it’s already the fourth one this morning, even Mr. Hugo’s ability must have its limits."

Victor picked up his coffee for a sip and said: "When I used to hear Mr. Hugo boast at literary gatherings in Paris about his honeymoon night with nine rounds, I just thought he was bragging. But now it seems, I must apologize for my arrogance then. This morning’s experience made me understand, some people cannot be judged lightly."

Arthur placed a cube of sugar in his teacup: "I just think Mr. Hugo telling others that he writes in the hotel in the morning is really too sly. Only one morning, and four different women came to his secret cabin. I now seriously suspect, Mr. Hugo and his wife Adele might have reached this stage because his needs in that regard are too strong, which has tired out his wife?"

Victor didn’t comment on this, he simply asked: "Arthur, tell me honestly, when you were conducting ’surprise inspections’ in London, did you ever encounter someone comparable to Mr. Hugo?"

Arthur lifted his teacup and thought: "Comparable ones may not have existed, but I do know of a reverse Hugo. That was our former Lower House Member — Mr. Bernie Harrison. If using ’The Times’ news heading to introduce him, it would be ’Bernie Harrison’s targeted aid actions towards Poland only last three to five minutes each time.’"

Victor almost choked on the hot coffee, covering his mouth while laughing heartily: "Looks like the citizens weren’t wrong to curse. These politicians always have a three-minute enthusiasm towards things."

Arthur took a sip of his tea and shook his head slightly: "Mr. Harrison now doesn’t even have three minutes of enthusiasm anymore, he’s completely gone cold."

"Hmm?" Victor heard the underlying meaning in Arthur’s words: "You mean? He died on a woman’s belly?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow and glanced at Victor: "You guessed the result right, but the process wasn’t as absurd as you think. If they’d asked me before they acted, I might have considered arranging such a romantic way for him to die. Even if he couldn’t die under a noblewoman’s skirt, I’d make him drink a bottle of perfume, with a faint blush on his face, dying intoxicated with fragrance all around."

Victor chuckled: "Is this some new murder method I haven’t heard of?"

Arthur chuckled softly, "Mr. Victor, perfume can be poisonous, would you like some?"

Whether the perfume is poisonous or not, Victor didn’t dwell on it, because before he could speak, there was another squeaking sound of bed boards shaking from the other side of the room.

Victor slapped his forehead and cursed in a low voice, "Damn it! That Balzac fellow has woken up!"

Arthur took out his pocket watch and glanced at it, "Don’t worry, Mr. Victor, check the time, it shouldn’t be far from the final Waterloo. Once the time comes, all these Napoleons will be exiled to Saint Helena Island."

Victor bent down and took a peek through a small hole to the adjacent room, "Stop with the sarcastic remarks; I see Hugo and his companion are already dressed up. We need to seize the opportunity to prevent him from starting another war. France cannot afford another war."

Arthur donned his hat and, picking up his cane, pushed open the door, "I finally understand why Napoleon disliked Mr. Talleyrand so much; it’s because he always opposed Napoleon’s continuation of war."

Victor also put on his hat and followed closely behind, "You’d better pray this doesn’t reach Mr. Talleyrand’s ears; as far as I know, he actually holds grudges."

"So what?" Arthur indifferently knocked on Hugo’s door, "I just earned him one hundred thousand francs."

In Victor’s stunned gaze, Hugo’s door was pulled open by a lady who, at first glance, had just experienced a spring rain.

She politely greeted Arthur and Victor and then proceeded straight between them.

Inside the room, Hugo, who was tidying his waistcoat, didn’t seem to mind the situation either. Upon seeing Victor, he enthusiastically waved and greeted him, "Mr. Victor, are you here to borrow the room? I’m not here in the afternoon and evening, you can use this place freely."

Knowing the inside story, Victor wouldn’t dare take advantage of Hugo. The old Paris fox shrewdly responded, "Victor, you’re as generous as ever, willing to help an old friend in financial trouble. But let me decline, I am a person of dignity, also a proud person. Although I’ve left the Security Department, I’ll soon find a suitable occupation for myself."

Hugo laughed heartily and invited them both into the room, "In my view, you’d make a great actor, with experience, emotions, and countless legendary tales. If you’d like, I can immediately write a play for you, about your years in the Security Department. When the theater manager chooses the cast, I guarantee to recommend you for the leading role."

Upon hearing this, Victor didn’t outright refuse but instead hinted to Hugo in a roundabout way, "I’m not skilled at acting. Moreover, I prefer watching plays to acting. However, if— I’m saying if—the lead actress were Mrs. Dovar, Vini’s lover, I might reluctantly accept this play. After all, who could resist sharing the stage with Paris’s most popular actress?"

Hugo seemed not to catch Victor’s implicit meaning, jokingly commented while lounging in a chair beside the writing table, "Francois, I advise you not to have any ideas about Dovar; Vini watches her closely. Previously, Alexander went to great lengths to get Dovar to London just to win her favor. Vini was so furious about it that he criticized Alexander’s theatrical works in the newspapers and even considered challenging him to a duel."

Arthur chimed in with a laugh, "Mr. Hugo, you might not know, but their duel is already over."

Hugo turned to Arthur and slapped his forehead, "Almost forgot about you; are you a friend of Mr. Victor?"

Arthur replied with a smile, "I’m not only a friend of Mr. Victor, but also a friend of Alexander. If you’re willing, I’d like to be friends with you too."

"And you are?" Hugo seemed to have guessed something.

Arthur extended his hand, "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hugo, I am Arthur Hastings from London, one of the reviewers of ’British’. We’ve previously corresponded about Mr. Stendhal’s publication of ’Red and Black’."

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