The Shadow of Great Britain

332: Chapter 207: Network Eavesdropping (5K4)_3 332: Chapter 207: Network Eavesdropping (5K4)_3 “Hahaha, you have a point,” Arthur said.

Seeing Wheatstone laugh so heartily, suddenly his own face bloomed into a brilliant smile.

Feeling a bit unnerved by Arthur’s gaze, Wheatstone asked tremulously, “What…

What’s the matter?

Is there something on my face?”

Leaning on the sofa, Arthur said, “Nothing at all, I just suddenly thought of something.

Sir Isaac Newton was certainly a great scientist, but his fame has reached such heights, even possibly exceeding his actual scientific achievements, and his status in the public’s heart is far greater than that of the equally great Mr.

Faraday, Charles.

Have you ever considered the reason behind this?”

“Arthur, you?” Wheatstone’s brow furrowed slightly, as something occurred to him.

Arthur, gesturing towards the luxurious decorations of the room and the guards patrolling outside all day, began to speak.

“Charles, look at you.

With just a phonograph, you’ve already joined the ranks of the wealthiest scientists in all of Britain, even in all of Europe.

While worldly success is certainly still a joy for you, I know that someone as passionate about science as you must have even loftier aspirations.”

“Perhaps it’s a simple but memorable epitaph, or a burial spot in Westminster Abbey.

Or it could be a simple scientific theorem, like the Newton-Leibniz formula.

But don’t you find it strange?

The formula is written with Leibniz’s notation, yet Newton’s name is placed before Leibniz’s.

Why is that?”

Swallowing hard, Wheatstone completely understood what Arthur was saying.

“Are you suggesting that I should actively accept the invitation from the Royal Society?”

“Whether you accept or not is entirely up to you,” Arthur replied with a smile.

“I’m simply offering a bit of reasonable speculation and advice as a friend.”

“But…” Wheatstone thought for a long time, struggling to pull out a paper from under the coffee table, “Arthur, this paper on the residual magnetism principle, I’ve already finished it.

Though I made the recording machine, this foundational theory paper for the recording, are you really not planning to co-author it with me?

After all, practically speaking, you were the one who discovered it.

I’m already grateful enough for the gramophone and records, the money I’ve earned, but you’re willing to pass up the scientific honors too?”

Sipping his coffee, Arthur said, “Charles, just like you said, I’m a Scotland Yard police officer.

My regular work keeps me busy enough, I really don’t have the time to be distracted by matters at the Royal Society.”

“Arthur, you…”

“Of course, my giving up these things doesn’t mean I want nothing in return.” Arthur tapped on the coffee table, “Charles, do you know who lives next door to this house of yours?”

“Who?”

Arthur smiled as he pulled out a document from his jacket and placed it on the coffee table, “Joseph Bonaparte, Napoleon’s brother, the former King of Spain.

As spacious as your house is, I imagine the ventilation must be quite ample, right?”

Startled, Wheatstone said, “Arthur, what are you planning to do?”

Arthur laughed, “I want you to set up the recording device inside the ventilation duct.”

“This…

I can do it, of course, but under what pretense?”

Arthur smiled, “Naturally, under the pretext of national security.

Do you really think the French can be trusted?

Alexander is always under my watchful eye, but for this restless member of Napoleon’s family, I can only rely on you.”

“Really?” Wheatstone looked somewhat skeptical.

Arthur leaned back on the sofa, “Believe it or not, it’s up to you, but I must emphasize one point, Charles.

If you want to achieve something, then you must be prepared to lose something.

To be remembered in history, to have formulas and theorems named after you, to hold the position of President of the Royal Society, to be an Isaac Newton, it’s not that easy.

You must understand one thing—great men are almost always bad men.

Of course, you can choose to bet that you are the exception.”

With that said, Arthur took out his pocket watch and glanced at it, “Goodbye, Charles, I have to go to work.

You now have half a day to think about it.

According to the intelligence provided by Fiona, Joseph Bonaparte is hosting a banquet at his residence tonight, and I am very interested in a few of the guests.

I hope that tomorrow morning, I can hear the recordings I want in the office at Scotland Yard.

If I can’t, it’s still okay; you can also come to have a drink and chat about friendship.

The half bottle of Ruscelluna that Duke Wellington gave me last time is still left.

Before I leave my post, we might as well clear out the good wine we have on hand.”

After finishing his statement, Arthur got up and left Wheatstone’s residence.

Walking on the flagstone path in front of Regency Crescent, the Red Devil was wandering beside Arthur.

Agares smiled, “Arthur, are you so certain that he will bring the recording tomorrow?”

Arthur, upon hearing this, merely blew smoke rings, “Of course I’m not certain.”

“Then what are you doing?” The Red Devil asked with a mischievous smile while rubbing his hands together, “A fifty-fifty chance, gambler’s psychology?”

Arthur glanced at him, “Agares, I am not like you, I’m not the Devil, and I can’t see through people’s hearts, so I need some methods to judge how to interact with someone and what approach to use.

Especially for the things I’m doing that can’t be out in the open, I need to be even more careful.

Also, I have to remind you, it was you who made me stay at Scotland Yard.

I have reached this position now, and a lot of things are beyond my control.

But perhaps this is what you wished to see?”

The Red Devil responded with just a smile, “Oh!

My dear Arthur, don’t always think so ill of me.

These are all your personal choices.

Who asked you to be in this society and yet insist on being the leader?

But look on the bright side, aren’t you happy now?

Today’s London has a bunch of people who depend on you to survive.

The fugitive fat man, Tom and Tony, and those two kids from the ‘British’ magazine, Fiona and her little group, and the newly wealthy man we just met.

Arthur, you absolutely must not fall, because if you do, they will all be done for very quickly.”

Arthur did not reply; he merely put his hat back on, his figure gradually disappearing into London’s morning mist.

Watching his figure disappear bit by bit, the malice on the Red Devil’s face intensified, “Do you think they will thank you?

Arthur, you’re too naive; they will only feel that everything they have is what they deserve.

If things go well, they take the credit for themselves.

If not, they blame everyone else; such is human nature.

Kid, if you keep this up, you’re bound to end up with no place to be buried.

I hope that when the time comes, your temper will still be as strong as it is now.

The Devil’s deals are never on hold, even though I quite admire you.”