The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 947 - 37: Conspiracy in the Gutter_3

He shook his head and said, "Your Majesty, I only know Victor has a friend at Scotland Yard, but I don’t know who that person is."

"Is that so?" Louis Philippe saw that he didn’t know and casually mentioned, "Arthur Hastings, the instigator who prevented us from bringing back the little fat guy, is also a superior at Scotland Yard, and this young man seems to have a good relationship with Wellington."

Jusco, upon hearing this series of events, couldn’t help asking, "If you need, once this guy leaves Britain, we can arrange for someone to take action."

"No." Louis Philippe raised his hand, "Jusco, your reaction is too extreme. I didn’t say there’s anything wrong with this young man, not to mention he is a British official. The Franco-British relationship is crucial, and Arthur Hastings is also our good friend. Talleyrand has invited him to play golf, and I plan to properly thank him for the help he has just given to France."

Speaking of this, Louis Philippe seriously instructed, "When you arrive at the banquet later, remember to offer him a toast on my behalf."

Jusco carefully pondered the king’s words, spending a long time to determine that His Majesty the King probably wasn’t saying the opposite.

Although he didn’t understand how a Scotland Yard officer could benefit the July Monarchy, since the king spoke highly, Jusco, who aspired to advance further, had to take it seriously.

Jusco placed one hand on his chest and bowed slightly, "I shall carry out your orders."

...

While Louis Philippe and Jusco were warmly discussing Arthur, this former London cop with many nicknames was still indulged in the lush music of the banquet.

Perhaps because there were so many big figures at this banquet, the British Embassy’s second-class secretary to the Kingdom of Hanover was really not a presentable identity.

However, for Arthur, it wasn’t without some benefits.

As a 24-year-old veteran agent, nothing is better than not attracting attention.

He can freely move in and out of every corner of the banquet, casually listening to the gossip of high society that occasionally drifts from the mouths of guests.

More importantly, he didn’t want to deal with those noble young ladies who at first glance are known to be spoiled.

Even though their painting skills are quite impressive, they can speak various languages such as Italian, Latin, English, and Spanish, play the piano excellently, and possess a voice trained by many masters.

Even though they look both smart and literarily cultivated, as if to prove Mascarille’s words, "Noble people are born knowing everything."

However, for Arthur, hearing such a lady discuss Italian, Dutch, Medieval or Renaissance art, arbitrarily criticize ancient and modern literary works, and use sharp and sarcastic words to point out the flaws of a piece, making the crowd that is attracted to her believe every simple word she says, just like the Turks believe the Sultan’s decree, is truly a torment.

Not to mention, the work she’s criticizing is the British masterpiece, Arthur Sigma’s "Hastings Case Files."

Old London agents can’t hear this.

"In my view, detective novels are merely works flowing in the market, without everlasting value. In terms of expression, novels do not compare to drama, and they are not an elegant art worth savoring. If there is a type among novels that is worth appreciating, it should be historical fiction rather than detective novels. In the British literary realm, the top-tier novelists are Sir Walter Scott, followed by Eld Carter, who wrote ’Robin Hood’..."

Arthur was about to turn and leave, but hearing this last sentence, he couldn’t help but stop and glance back at the speaking girl.

The "British" has so many works; she deliberately picks "Robin Hood" to overshadow "Hastings Case Files." Although there’s no first place in literature, if possible, Arthur still wants to drag Eld from South America to Paris to let this young lady have a good chat about literary works with Mr. Carter.

The young lady seemed to have sensed Arthur’s gaze, yet instead of avoiding it, she slightly raised her chin and winked at him with interest.

Arthur realized that his little glance had been caught, and his suddenly heated head slowly cooled down.

Arthur thought: "Forget it, what am I competing with Eld for? When it comes to the necessary qualities of a man of letters, I’m indeed not as fitting as he is. Besides, he graduated from the University of London’s Classical Literature department. Though they educated him like he had just been released from Oxford."

Arthur took off his hat, politely expressed his apology to the young lady for his glaring, and then carried his wine glass over to the next crowd.

He now urgently needs a scandalous rumor about Hugo or Balzac to cover up the disgruntlement in his heart.

Agares draped his arm over Arthur’s shoulder, knowing exactly what the young lad was thinking.

The Red Devil slapped his leg and laughed heartily: "My dear Arthur, I think at such a time, only Jane Austen’s ’Pride and Prejudice’ can heal your heart."

Arthur replied calmly without turning his head: "Agares, if you’re willing to put back the two bottles of Château d’Yquem you have hidden in your coat pocket, then we can talk more about the Seven Deadly Sins. Your comments tonight have been lacking, much like historians speculating on Napoleon’s mistakes at the Battle of Waterloo, I even suspect... you’ve hidden another bottle somewhere else?" freewёbnoνel-com

Agares heard this and snapped his fingers with a full smile: "Little rascal, how dare you offend Professor Agares like this? Aren’t you afraid of causing trouble for yourself?"

"Afraid of what?" Arthur shrugged: "As you mentioned before, I’m already a corpse."

Agares watched as the human eavesdropper walked farther away, unable to resist flipping him off behind his back: "Damn it, Arthur! I swear, if you keep talking to me like this, you’ll be sprouting hemorrhoids on your mouth by tonight!"

The Red Devil, seeing he was ignored, angrily pulled out the Château d’Yquem tucked into his pants and took two big swigs: "Burp! This kid is becoming more and more arrogant. Not only has dying once not taught him fear, it’s made him bolder. If I don’t come up with a way to deal with you, you might actually think I lack skills."

Agares pinched his chin, thinking left and right, and suddenly caught sight of the young lady who had just been glared at by Arthur.

This young lady, surrounded at the center of attention, had a smile in her eyes, but Agares could faintly read a hint of absent-mindedness from the corners of her mouth.

The Red Devil ambled over to the young lady, walking with his hands behind his back, first picking at the inside of his ear with a fingernail, then pulling out the golden glasses from his collar, before wearing a stethoscope pulled from his pocket.

He had just pressed the stethoscope to the young lady’s heart when he heard a mixture of confused voices.

"He seems unfamiliar, definitely not a local Parisian..."

"There are many British guests at this party; perhaps he’s from London?"

"He looks graceful, maybe from an ancient English family?"

"If marrying into an ancient British noble family, indeed it’d be on par with, or even a higher level than marrying into an ancient French noble family! Daddy often says, because of the Great Revolution, many French noble lines were severed, so many British noble houses are older than those in France."

"He seems interested in me, but not intensely. Is it because of my makeup today? He doesn’t like the pink dress I’m wearing today?"

"No, I can’t make such rash decisions. Emily, you need to calm down. Even if he comes from British nobility, it doesn’t matter if he’s not the first-born with inheriting rights. Your other half must be a pure noble and must have a seat in the House of Lords. Then, walking down streets in London, those soldiers will salute you, and in every salon, those vulgar women will center around you."

"Perhaps I need to inquire about his origins? But who should I ask? A lady speaking so directly would not suit my noble status."

"Maybe daddy knows the identity of the man from just now; after every banquet, his pocket is always stuffed with various name cards, surely one of them must be his."

"Oh!" Agares put away the stethoscope and exclaimed: "Look at what I’ve heard! A startling discovery, a young girl’s vanity! Though it seems mundane, perhaps I can use it to orchestrate a disastrous marriage. Or, cause lifelong hatred in a relationship where every day one wants to eliminate the other partner! As a little punishment for a partner, it would be perfect."

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