The Shadow of Great Britain

68: Chapter 29 Arthur’s Redemption and Hell 68: Chapter 29 Arthur’s Redemption and Hell Arthur sat in the rattling carriage with an expressionless face.

He was drenched from head to toe; the weather was foul today, and he had run several streets to find a public horse-drawn carriage that was operating early in the morning.

The coachman grasped the reins in each hand.

Through the carriage window, upon seeing Arthur soaked to the skin, he asked with some embarrassment, “Officer, do you need a towel?

I have one for wiping sweat, and if you do not mind, you can use it.

It’s hanging on the handrail inside the carriage, the white one there.”

Arthur’s body was shivering a bit, and he forced a smile, “Thank you for your kindness.

Then I won’t be polite.”

While drying his uniform with the towel, he heard the coachman chuckle from the other end of the carriage.

The coachman, who was sheltered by the awning extending from the top of the carriage, drove cheerfully while laughing.

“It’s nothing.

I feel a bit embarrassed to say this, but you resemble the nephew I’ve raised with my own hands.

The features, the contour, even your hair is black and looks healthy.

If he had stayed in the country, maybe he could have become a Scotland Yard police officer like you, with what must be a not so bad income, since ordinary people cannot afford to ride on a public carriage.”

“Income…” Arthur stalled for a moment, recalling many things: “It’s alright, I guess.

At least it’s enough to get by on.”

The coachman said with a smile, “Indeed, in these times, a job that lets you survive is a good job.

My nephew had to borrow money to take a boat to North America because he couldn’t make a living back home.

I hear that the North American colonies are not like here; they lack manpower, and whether you work as a farmer tilling the soil or in a factory, the treatment is good.

Oh my, it’s already been more than half a year, and I don’t know how my nephew is getting on in North America; he doesn’t even remember to write a letter to his uncle.”

Arthur consoled, “Maybe the letter he wrote hasn’t arrived yet; after all, the fastest steamship from Boston on the east coast of North America to Liverpool here takes about half a month.”

The coachman asked with interest, “You seem quite knowledgeable about North America.

How do you know it takes half a month by ship?”

Arthur smiled, “Because not long ago, I just returned a ticket for a ship to Boston.”

“Return the ticket?

You were planning to go to North America too?”

Confused, the coachman asked, “Why?

Don’t you have a pretty good job?

Only people who can’t survive here think about trying their luck in North America.”

Arthur held the towel in his hands as he stared out the foggy window at the pouring rain, his tone revealing complex, somewhat inscrutable emotions.

“There are many, very complex reasons.”

The coachman looked back at the young man and, not comprehending, shook his head, with his eyes sparkling with a faint red light, like flames spewing from the Red Devil’s mouth.

“Young man, you seem troubled.

But as someone who has been through it, I still want to say something that may sound trite.

The most important thing for humans in this world is just one thing, and that is to survive.

People live for the sake of living; don’t go looking for meaning, because life inherently has no meaning.

The so-called meaning is just a reason people concoct to keep themselves going.

If that reason doesn’t make sense, then we find another reason.

After all, there are plenty of reasons; there’s sure to be one that fits you.”

As he spoke, the carriage wheels gradually came to a stop.

The coachman stretched out his hand backward and shouted, “Officer, Saint Thomas’ Hospital is here.

The distance is not far, just the starting fare, one shilling.”

Two coins were pressed into the coachman’s palm.

The coachman was startled, looking at the coins in his hand and asked, “Sir, it’s one shilling, not two.”

Arthur stepped out of the carriage, straightened his police uniform, and stepped onto the rain-drenched cobblestones.

“Please take it.

Like you said, these two shillings are the reason I’ve concocted for myself to keep living; they are the meaning of my life.”

He walked toward the main entrance of Saint Thomas’ Hospital, leaving muddy footprints along the way.

Agares’ silhouette slowly leeched out of the coachman’s frame, the Red Devil’s crown was roiling with boiling oil, and it seemed as if flames were burning between his eyes.

He was uncontrollably angry, and though his low hum was barely discernible, it seemed capable of tearing through the gloomy sky and the downpour flooding the streets.

Many voices buried behind time echoed in his ears, and he recalled many distant memories he wished not to remember.

—Behold, my servant.

Whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights!

I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations.

—He will not cry aloud or lift up his voice, nor make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice.

—A light for the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness.

My chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations, a light for the nations, healing the blind, freeing captives, and leading out those who sit in sin, supporting our hands.

Agares clutched his head, his face filled with disbelief: “Is…

is it you?”

Arthur stood quietly outside the window of the dissection room at Saint Thomas’ Hospital, where he saw it crowded with King’s College medical students who had come for a lesson.

The cold wind blew off his round black hat, and the icy raindrops beat on his face, but when the rainwater gathered at his chin, it suddenly felt warm.

The sensation was scalding, almost enough to peel back his skin.

The voice of the medical Professor lecturing occasionally came from the classroom.

“Please come closer, students.

Today’s case is somewhat special; it’s a female child under ten years of age.

We can see that the deceased’s lungs are slightly white and have begun to show signs of powdering, likely due to a lung-related disease.

Pulmonary diseases are quite common among our worker population, and we are dedicated to researching gas medicines, also for the purpose of…”

Arthur’s hand holding the police truncheon trembled slightly; he breathed in, exhaled, and then inhaled again.

He felt like his ears could no longer hear clearly, and his eyes were nearly blind.

He felt the whole world spinning, his head reeling.

He sensed a wild frustration in his chest that would only subside if he killed a few people to settle his heart.

He clenched his teeth, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper, “Who did this?”

The Red Devil stood behind him, his gaze fixed on Arthur, brimming with disbelief.

Arthur turned, grabbed the Red Devil by the collar, and slammed him against the wall, “Agares!

I’m asking you who did this!

Can’t you hear me?!

Aren’t you the one who can answer all the riddles in the world?!

Who did it?

Tell me now, how many souls do you want, I’ll pay them all!”

Agares’ head cleared when he was slammed.

The Red Devil took a deep breath and pressed down with both hands, “Arthur, you need to calm down, just calm down first.”

“How do you expect me to calm down?!

How do you expect me to explain to Adam?!

Are you suggesting that I tell him his friend, that adorable little girl, Robin, was gutted and laid out in the dissection room of St.

Thomas Hospital!”

Agares reminded him, “Arthur, I know it’s hard for you.

And I told you, you shouldn’t have come here.

Just like Charles Darwin said, decent people should stay away from hospitals, some things here are… very… very bloody…”

“Is this about being bloody?

Why did she die, and how did her body end up here?!

I…

I should never have listened to Scotland Yard.

If I hadn’t followed their requests, but instead made it public, maybe Robin wouldn’t have had this misfortune…

It’s all my fault…”

Arthur, gasping for breath and clutching his heart, leaned against the corner of the wall for support, it was the only way he wouldn’t fall.

“Arthur, don’t blame yourself too much,” the Red Devil consoled, resting a hand on his shoulder, “This little girl was never going to live long, it’s not your fault.”

“Arthur!

It’s bad!

Robin is missing!”

Suddenly, a cry rang out.

Arthur looked up to see Tom and Tony, who were supposed to pick up Robin for her doctor’s appointment, as well as Adam, held in Tom’s arms.

Seeing them rush over, Arthur tried to stand up, but each attempt ended with him falling into puddles.

Upon seeing this, Tony hurried over to help him up.

But as Tony got near the window of the dissection room, his feet abruptly stopped.

Looking at the scene inside, Tony felt blood rush to his head in an instant, and tears streamed down his face.

“I…

I’ll fucking…

I’ll fucking slaughter these morons!!!”

He drew his police knife and, like an enraged black bear, tried to burst into the room.

But before he could act, he was caught from behind by Arthur in a bear hug, and both exerted force in opposite directions, ending up crashing heavily into the muddy ground.

Tony tried to pry open Arthur’s hands with all his might, but the vice-like arms wouldn’t budge.

“Arthur, you…

let go of me!

Fucking let go!

If I don’t kill these people, you…

how am I supposed to face God after I die?”

“Tony, you can’t go,” Arthur said in his raspy voice.

“You’re about to start a family; you can’t do this.”

Tears filled Tony’s eyes as he swore loudly, “Fuck starting a family!

Arthur, don’t think you’re the only cop here, I’m one too!”

“Then you can’t go either.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s an order.”

“To hell with your order!”

Tony knelt, clutching his head and howling to the heavens; amidst the curtain of rain, all one could see was his bloodshot eyes.

“Ah!!!!!”

Tom, holding Adam, stood back, startled by Tony’s reaction.

“Arthur, Tony, what happened to you two?”

Arthur lifted a hand towards Tom, swallowing a mouthful of spit, “Don’t come over, Tom, you and Adam stay there.”

Tom asked, baffled, “Is that an order too?”

“No, it isn’t,” Arthur replied, his wet hair hanging messily over his head, making him look disheveled, “It’s just a request.

If you want to make it easier for me, don’t come over here; I’ll come to you.”

Arthur, clutching his aching heart, walked toward Tom, then crouched down to meet Adam’s eye level.

“Adam, I don’t know how to say this to you.

I…

I’m sorry to you, and even more…

more sorry to Robin.

You trusted me so much, and I…

I’m sorry, I let you down.”

Hearing this, Adam slowly opened his eyes wide, as if the nine-year-old boy understood something.

All children who came from the St.

Giles Church area matured earlier than their peers.

He understood the meaning behind Arthur’s words.

“Mr.

Hastings…”

Arthur could barely meet his gaze, “I…

I’m really sorry.”

Adam’s eyes were full of tears as he reached out his arms to hug Arthur’s head, resting his cheek on top of Arthur’s, “You’ve never had anything to be sorry for with me, and even if you did, I would forgive you.”

Arthur knelt down, slowly closing his eyes, his emotions finally calming amidst the pouring rain.

“Adam, I promise you, and I promise Robin, I won’t let anyone involved with the St.

Giles Church’s disappearance go unpunished.”

He took a deep breath, used his hand to push his soaking hair back, then stood up turning to Tom, “Tom, send someone to the Magistrates’ Court to apply for a search warrant for King’s College St.

Thomas Hospital right away.”

Then he shouted towards the sobbing Tony, “Tony!

If you want revenge, come with me to the Home Office right now.

The lead on this disappearance case will belong to the London Metropolitan Police’s Greenwich Police District!”