The Shadow of Great Britain

329: Chapter 206: Advanced Police Technology (4K)_2 329: Chapter 206: Advanced Police Technology (4K)_2 Wheatstone was taken aback, and after a long while, he asked with a frown, tilting his head: “Arthur, have you lost your mind?

When you hosted the concert, you were all about maximizing profit, secretly recording those musicians’ exclusive tracks.

How come you don’t care about the commercial interests of the product anymore.”

Arthur walked over to the nearly half-meter-tall recording machine, stroked his chin, and sized it up, mumbling, “Though it’s a bit large, sneaking it somewhere would probably be impossible.

Fortunately, not many people know about its…”

Upon hearing this, Wheatstone felt the hairs on his body almost stand up.

He finally understood what Arthur intended him to create this device for.

Wheatstone stammered, “Ar…Arthur, you…you wouldn’t be thinking of…

That’s illegal, you know!”

Hearing this, Arthur merely smiled slightly and raised his eyebrows, “Charles, is there any law in Britain that prohibits recording?”

“This…” Wheatstone’s brain short-circuited for a moment, and after pondering carefully, he suddenly exclaimed with alarm, “This…

there really isn’t…

The recorder has only just appeared, how could there be any legislation?

But…

with all due respect, this is ultimately unethical!”

Arthur pulled up a chair and sat down, pouring himself a cup of tea from the teapot on the table: “Unethical?

Oh, my dear Charles, I didn’t know you had taken up a post as a priest somewhere.

Besides, don’t you want to hear what I’m planning to use it for?”

Wheatstone inquired, “What do you intend to record with it?”

Arthur sipped his tea: “Naturally, some private recordings not suitable for public disclosure.”

“Isn’t that unethical?”

Arthur gently shook his finger, “Charles, you can’t say that.

In our York countryside, there’s a saying—’You don’t pee in the pot you eat from, because you have to use it yourself.’ Although this saying is rather crude, the principle is just that.

What if I now told you that the London Police Intelligence Bureau might be disbanded for a lack of this recording, and the research funding you invested would be completely lost.

Then, how would you respond?”

“This…” Wheatstone said doubtfully, “Is it really that serious?”

Arthur smiled in response, “Oh, Charles, you are very lucky to be a scientist, not a Scotland Yard detective.

You’re unaware of the trouble we’re currently in, and you don’t have to worry about it.

But…”

Just then, a knock on the door interrupted Arthur’s words.

Following that, a sickly-sweet voice like one dipped in a sugar jar came through, “Mr.

Hastings, my sweetheart, calling me over so late, seems like you’ve had a change of heart?

Have you finally realized I’m worth two hundred pounds?”

At this, Arthur merely nodded toward Wheatstone, “See, Charles, what did I tell you?

This is the sort of thing I have to deal with every day.”

Wheatstone swallowed hard, “Really?

Why do I find it quite tempting?

But what’s up with the two hundred pounds?”

Arthur didn’t answer Wheatstone’s question; instead, he got up, opened the door, and pulled Fiona by the arm into the room.

As soon as Fiona entered the room, the smile on her face instantly froze.

She glanced at Wheatstone, who was smiling shyly and nodding at her, then turned to look at Arthur shrouded in darkness, and with eyes as wide as almonds, she demanded, “What do you mean, Hastings?

I’m not some easy woman, you’d have to double the money, and even then, I’d have to think about it.”

“Madam, you’re rather too optimistic about easy money.”

Arthur sat back in his chair, leaning against the backrest, and asked, “The intelligence?

After following Mr.

Harrison for three days, surely you haven’t come up empty-handed.”

Fiona heard this and merely pursed her lips in dissatisfaction, then gently pinched her fingers together and pulled an envelope out from her chest, tossing it onto the table, “Heh!

You’re really lacking in romance, doing this sort of work every day, how have you not worked yourself to death?”

Arthur, upon hearing this, wasn’t angered but instead took a small bottle out of his pocket and threw it towards Fiona.

“What’s this?”

Fiona caught the bottle and looked down at it.

Through the not-so-bright light, she could vaguely see an amber, semi-viscous liquid flowing inside the transparent little glass bottle, and on the surface of the bottle was etched its brand name—Riddle.

Fiona paused for a moment in slight astonishment, “This…”

Arthur raised his eyebrows and asked, “So, can we go back to work now?”

“You think you can get rid of me with just a bottle of perfume?” Fiona snorted disdainfully, “Please, I’m not some pure-hearted teenaged girl, your trick is way too old-fashioned.”

“Alright then, you really are a shrewd woman.” Arthur showed a look of regret on his face, withdrawing a scorching hot bill from his jacket pocket, “Take this then, and give me back the perfume.”

“Give it back?

Once something falls into my hands, it naturally becomes mine.” Fiona covered the corners of her eyes, pretending to cry, “Oh!

To ask back for a gift given to a lovely lady, Mr.

Hastings, although you are a policeman, you should at least pretend to have some gentlemanly decorum, even if it’s just for show.”

“Alright, alright.” Arthur first opened the envelope to glance inside, then shook the bill at Fiona, “Considering the decent job you’ve been doing, keep both the bill and the perfume, but I must declare in advance, this is only for this time, don’t expect it in the future.”

Upon hearing that, Fiona tilted forward with both hands on the bill, swaying it for a while, her eyes narrowing slightly.

She stared at Arthur’s face for a long time, but in the end, she retracted her hands.

The blonde half-breed was visibly displeased as she huffed through her nose, “Fine, if I take this money, you’ll probably find a reason to fire me tomorrow.

Let’s settle for the bottle of perfume then, it’s better than getting nothing at all.

But as you said, Mr.

Hastings, just this once, not to be repeated.”

Having said that, Fiona picked up her skirt hem, tucked one foot behind and bent her knee in a standard lady’s curtsy, “Then, goodnight, Mr.

Hastings.

I hope when I see you late at night, you won’t be with another man.

After such a length of time, you ought to have made some progress.

Even I, a vulgar woman, have picked up a fair bit of these cumbersome high-society etiquettes after half a year at the embassy.”

With a gentle closing of the door, the glint in Wheatstone’s eyes also went out, and he couldn’t help shaking his head, “Truly a beautiful lady.”

Meanwhile, Arthur’s attention had returned from Fiona, and he reached into his waistcoat’s inner pocket, seeming to be searching for something.

Seeing him like this, Wheatstone couldn’t help but express his bewilderment, “Arthur, what are you doing?”

No sooner had he spoken when the sounds of clinking and clanking filled the air; Arthur spread his hands and placed a pile of colorful perfume bottles on the table.

Wheatstone scratched his head, “Did you go out to stock up?

There are enough perfumes here to open a perfume shop.”

In the face of Wheatstone’s bewildered gaze, Arthur took a cool drag on his cigarette, his arms resting on the table, and called out, “Charles.”

“What’s the matter?”

Arthur pointed at the perfume bottles on the table, starting somewhat sheepishly, “You’re a scientist engrossed in research, so you might not care about this.

So let me introduce it to you first, this is currently the most fashionable perfume brand in London—Riddle.

Each bottle of perfume is carefully blended by the well-known French perfumer, Mr.

Riddle.

And as you also saw earlier, each of these bottles of perfume is worth two hundred pounds.

But since we’re old friends, I can’t rip you off, how about I give you a discount?

Here are ten bottles, just one thousand pounds for you, and we’ll settle the payment for the recorder at that.

How’s that sound?”