The Shadow of Great Britain

131: Chapter 90 Arthur’s Cheap Labor 131: Chapter 90 Arthur’s Cheap Labor “This is an era where change and conservation coexist; both the Whig Party and the Tory Party represent their own interests.

It is only I who truly represents the entire great populace of Great Britain.

Remember my name, Benjamin Disraeli, candidate for the Member of Parliament for Westminster’s 8th district.

Casting your vote for me is like casting a vote for yourself!”

Disraeli had reached this point in his speech when he looked up at the golden sunset and couldn’t help but twist his sore back from standing all afternoon.

The small number of attendees below the stage approached him and said, “Mr.

Disraeli, could we settle today’s wages?

You promised us six pennies an hour, and we’ve been here for three hours, five of us in total—that’s seven shillings and six pennies.”

Disraeli pulled a face unwillingly, “What’s the hurry?

I am not going to cheat you out of your pay…”

While muttering, he pulled out his wallet from his pocket, fumbled for a few coins, and handed them over.

With their wages received, they all beamed with smiles and asked, “Sir, will you be here again tomorrow?”

Disraeli wiped the sweat off his cheek with a handkerchief and replied with some displeasure, “No, I won’t.

I have been speaking here for several days.

Yet apart from you, there are hardly any people willing to listen to me.

If this continues, I don’t know how long it will take to secure enough votes to be elected.”

No sooner had Disraeli finished speaking than he caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye of a black-haired young man standing attentively outside the park’s fence, looking towards him.

Behind the young man were three individuals closely following him, carrying large and small bags, looking like they were his servants.

In any case, it was evident at a glance that this man had the right to vote.

Disraeli’s eyes lit up, and he quickly put away his handkerchief and approached, flashing a smile at Arthur across the fence.

“Sir, are you interested in my speech?”

Arthur seemed hesitant; however, after turning to glance at the mountain of luggage behind him, he nodded seriously.

“I am indeed interested, but I really do not have the time for you to explain your political views in detail.

As you can see, I am in the midst of moving.”

“You’re moving?

May I ask where your new home is?”

“Not far ahead, in Bayswater’s Lancaster Gate.”

“Lancaster Gate?!”

Upon hearing this address, the smile on Disraeli’s face intensified.

He glanced around, and after ensuring there were no policemen nearby, the gentleman in the fine black tailcoat leaped up nimbly, stepped on the carved fence railing, and vaulted over it.

He patted the dust off his hands and said with a smile, “You must be new to London?

You probably don’t know the way to Lancaster Gate, unfamiliar as you are with the place.

Let me show you the way.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than he took it upon himself to take the suitcase from Arthur’s hands and then hoisted up onto his shoulder the large storage box that had been left on the roadside, which no one else wanted to move, using all his strength.

Disraeli’s face turned red with the effort, but he still maintained his composure, smilingly asking in a kind tone, “Which number do you live at?”

Arthur bowed slightly, filled with apology, “Number 36 Lancaster Gate.

I am truly putting you to trouble.”

“It’s nothing, please don’t be so formal.

A member of parliament who aspires to serve the public should be all-out to remedy the public’s troubles.

You will soon understand what I mean.

After I help you move your belongings, I can explain my election platform to you properly…”

Disraeli walked ahead, carrying the box, and continued to expound on his grand vision and promises for after he was elected.

Meanwhile, Arthur didn’t move an inch from where he stood; he lit his pipe and took a puff before turning to Eld and extending his hand, “One shilling, I won the bet.”

Eld took the money out of his pocket with displeasure, “Damn!

There are really such fools in the world, willing to carry things for you without asking for a single penny.

And look at him; it’s as if after he finishes moving your stuff, he should thank you for the honor!”

Darwin shook his head, “Isn’t he eyeing Arthur’s vote?

Moving some things in exchange for a favor, it’s a bargain indeed.”

“A vote?” Eld exhaled sharply through his nose, “Charles, have you forgotten?

Arthur is a policeman from Scotland Yard.

He doesn’t have the right to vote.

That fellow is purely an unthinking laborer duped into this.”

Upon hearing this, Arthur quickly gestured for silence, holding a finger to his lips and whispering to Eld, “Shush!”

Disraeli, having talked himself dry, finally couldn’t refrain from setting down the box and, turning back, he asked, perplexed, “What’s the matter?

Why aren’t you moving forward?”

Great Dumas, upon hearing this, feigned a lack of strength; he dropped the luggage box and crouched on the ground holding his left leg, “Ah no, I can’t bear it, my foot is sprained.”

Arthur, seeing this, couldn’t help but glare at the chubby man before reluctantly feigning surprise, “Oh!

Alexander!

After I spent so much money to ransom you, it’s one thing not to appreciate my kindness.

But now, you tell me that you can’t carry or lift?

If you continue like this, I might have to consider sending you back to the plantations in Santo Domingo.”

Great Dumas almost couldn’t contain his anger upon hearing this.

But once he had cooled his head, he quickly realized that it was more practical to endure less physical strain than to enjoy a verbal advantage, especially since Marble Arch was at least a mile away from Arthur’s new residence.

In response to Arthur’s taunts, Great Dumas chose to make a mental note of this slight, for the wheel of fortune turns with time.

He feigned agony and said, “Mr.

Hastings, this is an old ailment of mine.

It’s not that I wish to shirk my duty, but truly, my leg is troubling me.”

Eld glanced at the stout man, then nudged Darwin beside him, “Charles, weren’t you a surgeon once?

Quick, when we get there you can fix him up with an iron saw.”

On hearing this, Great Dumas could no longer hold back.

He was about to display a Frenchman’s pride when Disraeli ran over to smooth things over.

“Gentlemen, why the fuss?

It’s just a bit of luggage, isn’t it?

I’m in good shape; let me help you.”

With that, Disraeli reached for the two suitcases that Great Dumas had thrown on the ground.

But Arthur had already beaten him to it, picking up the one on the left and smiling apologetically, “Mr.

Disraeli, if you don’t mind taking the one on the right.”

Disraeli chuckled twice, but as his hand touched the left suitcase and he tried to lift it, he nearly ran out of breath.

His face turned slightly blue, “Sir, what have you packed in this suitcase?

Why is it so heavy?”

Arthur smiled gently, “Ah, just a bit of inconsequential personal wealth, a suitcase full of gold.”

“Ah?!” Disraeli weighed the suitcase in his hand and let out a long breath, “If you put it like that, I feel as though the suitcase just got lighter.”

Disraeli gritted his teeth, his body rigid, carrying the ‘gold’ in one hand and a storage box on the other shoulder.

Along the way, he didn’t even have the excess energy to spare for speaking; the usually talkative Mr.

Disraeli was silent the entire journey, and on the bustling Bayswater road, all one could hear was his panting breath.

Great Dumas limped along, but upon noticing that Disraeli was too preoccupied to pay him any mind, the plump Frenchman quickly regained his vigor.

His back no longer hurt, his legs weren’t sore, and he even had the appetite to devour a portion of fried potatoes bought from a roadside vendor.

Finally reaching the destination, Disraeli hastily unloaded the storage box from his shoulder.

He bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

Disraeli looked up at the three-story standalone villa with a small garden in front and comforted himself, “Who would believe I don’t have the right to vote when I can live in such a house?”

He wiped the sweat from his chin using the back of his hand and turned to look for Arthur, only to find the fat servant after a long search; the other two servants and the gentle, refined young man were nowhere to be seen.

He hurriedly asked, “Gentlemen, do you know where your young master has gone?”

Great Dumas clutched his stomach, frowning, feeling that the fried potatoes he had just eaten might have been a bit greasy, “No idea, we were just about to report it to the police.

Sir, look there.”

Disraeli followed the direction of his pointing hand and saw Eld and Darwin standing in front of a Scotland Yard officer, animatedly explaining something.

Just as Disraeli was about to go over and see, Great Dumas spoke up again, “Sir, I advise you best not go over there.

That police officer said he saw someone suspected of climbing over Hyde Park’s railings, disrupting public order.

He’s searching everywhere for you; wouldn’t going there now be like walking into a trap?”

“Ah?”

Upon hearing this, Disraeli was thrown into a panic.

He hastily took a business card from his jacket pocket and stuffed it into Great Dumas’s hand.

“Please inform your young master that I live nearby, and once the police bring him back, I will certainly pay a return visit.”

Having said that, Disraeli quickly lowered his hat brim and hastened his steps into a blind spot out of the police officer’s view.

Eld caught a glimpse of him from the corner of his eye and waited until he was far enough away before removing the police officer’s hat.

The officer didn’t seem to mind, and instead lightly dusted off the Bath star on his epaulette before calmly walking over to Great Dumas and picking up the business card to look at it.

—Lionel Rothschild, Consultant Advisor at Rothschild Bank, Chairman of the Board of London Real Estate Investment Consultation Company.

Eld leaned over to look and couldn’t help frowning, “Damn it!

He gave the wrong card; isn’t his name Benjamin Disraeli?

Does such a person aspire to be a Representative?”

And Arthur glanced towards the direction Disraeli had run off to.

He smiled faintly and tucked the card into his pocket, “Is this gentleman also an investment target of the Rothschild Family?

Suddenly, I’ve taken an interest in this Mister.”