The Shadow of Great Britain

359: Chapter 217: The Secret of Styria (4K8)_2 359: Chapter 217: The Secret of Styria (4K8)_2 Arthur suddenly paused as he spoke, “Your mother, the beautiful Mrs.

Ottens de Beauharnais, has been inquiring at our Foreign Office these past few days, asking whether they have seen your older brother, the former King Louis II of the Netherlands.

My visit today is precisely to ask for a response on your behalf.”

On hearing this, Louis Bonaparte felt his heart rise to his throat.

His lips trembled as he hesitated for a long time before he revealed the truth: “My…

my older brother, he…

he contracted hives during his escape and…

he died of the disease in Fuller…”

On hearing this, Arthur’s eyes widened ever so slightly, “This…

I’m very sorry to hear this news.

But I think it would be better for you to tell your mother in person, as I suspect there is much more to the story.

Mr.

Bonaparte, do you need me to arrange a meeting with your mother this afternoon?”

“No!” Louis Bonaparte, upon hearing this, quickly interjected, “You…

Scotland Yard might as well keep me locked up for a few more days, I…

I need to think about how to explain this to my mother.”

Arthur nodded slightly upon hearing this.

He patted Wheatstone on the shoulder, indicating that they should both rise and leave Louis Bonaparte alone to have some quiet.

Wheatstone seemed somewhat distressed and consoled him, “Louis, if you’re feeling down, you can talk to me anytime, just come by yourself.

I…

I live right next door, and it’s the same once you’re out, we’re neighbors after all.”

Arthur, taking Wheatstone with him, exited the door.

Before departing, he didn’t forget to remind, “If you need anything, just call the guard here.

As long as it’s not an excessive request, we’ll try to accommodate you.”

Having said this, he then locked the door behind him.

As soon as he stepped out, Arthur let out a long sigh of relief, turned his head, and saw several manuscripts under Wheatstone’s arm, which piqued his curiosity, “What are those?”

Wheatstone, still preoccupied with his new friend’s plight, absentmindedly replied, “I’ve been locked up here these past few days, right?

Since there was nothing else to do, I decided to finish up some papers on experiments I had done.”

“Is that so?

May I take a look?”

“Take them.”

Arthur glanced over the manuscript and saw it was all written in French.

If it were more than half a year earlier, Arthur certainly wouldn’t have understood it, but thanks to the lure of the first French edition of “The Human Comedy” that Victor had brought to Great Dumas, and with Great Dumas’ intensive lessons over the past half year, Arthur’s understanding of French had long since extended beyond the dirty word commonly used to curse others.

What’s more fortunate is that Arthur’s French teacher was a well-known political keyboardist in the 19th century, so his grasp of political vocabulary was far beyond that of an average beginner, which also helped him to understand this manuscript in his hand very well.

As Arthur leafed through the manuscript, he spoke up, “Charles.”

Wheatstone looked up, “What is it?”

Arthur looked up and asked, “Do you fancy being exiled to Elba Island or Saint Helena Island?”

“Exile?” Wheatstone started, taken aback, “Arthur, aren’t you getting a bit too much?”

“No, Charles, it’s not me who is excessive.”

Arthur pointed at the title of the manuscript and questioned Wheatstone, “Take a look, ‘Political Dream.’ Charles, are you trying to tell me that your experiments are about establishing the First French Empire?

If that’s the case, according to the principles of the British common law, exiling you to one of those two islands would be well justified.”

It was then that Wheatstone realized, “This isn’t my manuscript, damn it, I must have picked up the wrong one.

This is Louis’s.”

Arthur handed back the manuscript and shrugged, “Well, when he’s in a better mood, give it back to him, and suggest he changes the title of this unpublished manuscript to something like ‘Let France be Great Again’ or something.

That’s far more persuasive than ‘Political Dream.’ Hmm…

at least, I think Alexander, that portly fellow, would definitely fall for it.”

“Fall for it?” Wheatstone raised an eyebrow, “You mean to say Louis is a swindler?”

Arthur merely smiled, “Not exactly a swindler – if he were, he’d actually be relatively safe.

What worries me most is that he might actually believe it himself.”

Wheatstone heard this and only shook his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Arthur’s words.

Mr.

Wheatstone, who had a strong sense of self-discipline, conscientiously returned to his cell, leaving behind the words, “It’s too complicated, it seems I’m not fit to be the head of the Royal Society, I’d better stick with the research I like.”

Arthur didn’t object to Wheatstone’s opinion, standing ready to leave, but Agares who had been behind Arthur fiddling with a tube, couldn’t help but burst into laughter on hearing this.

“Ah!

Arthur, don’t be like that.

You know, in most cases, the leader of a crowd is only a leading agitator, but their role should not be underestimated.

Leaders generally possess a strong and enduring will, an extremely rare and powerful quality that can conquer everything.

In other words, only the most extreme individuals can become leaders.

But even so, so-called leaders often start as the led themselves, first hypnotized by theory and then wanting to teach it to others.

It’s the same from one generation to the next.”

Hearing this, Arthur simply lit up a cigarette and said, “Are you talking about Jesus?”