The Shadow of Great Britain

501: Chapter 267: The Arena of Fame and Profit (5K) 501: Chapter 267: The Arena of Fame and Profit (5K) Arthur heard these words, looked up, and took a glance at the girl standing at the door.

Her pale golden ponytail was wrapped at the back of her head with a neatly tied white scarf, and her quite new floral white dress, though not luxurious, looked fresh and tidy.

Add to that her somewhat uneasy expression and the hands that didn’t know where to rest but gently fidgeted with the hem of her dress, one glance was enough to tell that this girl must have just arrived from the countryside to the fog and industrial fumes of London.

If Arthur had met this girl anywhere else, he would most likely have taken off his hat to ask if she needed any help.

As a police officer, Arthur clearly understood how crucial it was for such naive young women to take the right first steps in London.

Every year, countless carts full of young women harboring vain dreams came to the cold London, hoping to find a well-paying job and perhaps even a suitable romantic match.

However, although harboring dreams is always delightful, it wouldn’t take long before this sinful city full of pickpockets, burglars, bandits, pimps, and kidnappers taught them a harsh lesson.

As far as Arthur knew, since the last century, there were some people in London specifically engaged in the business of exploiting these young women, meticulously organized and skilled, luring these newcomers into the trade of customs.

If it were outside, Arthur would most likely not consider such a girl a threat and instead, politely warn her, “Beware of the abyss that lurks everywhere in London.”

But now, Arthur had no such thoughts, because he distinctly remembered his recruitment ad in the newspaper listed 36 Lancaster Gate as the location, a cottage he never disclosed as a secret liaison site for the Police Intelligence Department.

How on earth had this girl found this place?

And how did she know Arthur Hastings was sitting here?

Arthur signalled Louis with a look, then smilingly said to the girl, “Come in, it’s quite cold outside.

A fire’s been lit in the room, and you can have a cup of warm tea to warm yourself up.”

The girl simply thanked Arthur and placed her umbrella in the stand by the door, then lifted her skirts and sat down in front of Arthur.

Louis naturally closed the door, took a book from the shelf beside him and leaned against the wall by the door.

Arthur asked as kindly as possible, “Did you find this place because of the recruitment ad in the newspaper?”

The girl, seeing Arthur’s friendly demeanor, grew a bit bolder; she carefully took out a folded clipping from her knitted purse and spread it out in front of Arthur—it was indeed the help-wanted ad he had published.

Gathering her courage, she replied with a voice as confident as a nightingale’s, “Yes, sir.

Laundry, cooking, cleaning, and childcare, I am capable of performing all these tasks.

In addition, my needlework is also very excellent.”

Although the girl thought her response was quite good, it obviously did not satisfy Arthur, who wanted to ascertain her background, not her work capabilities.

With an attitude of not startling the snake in the grass, Arthur nodded to Louis, waited until he heard the click of the door locking, then smiled and continued to inquire, “Although it’s impolite to ask, to facilitate our upcoming conversation, may I be so bold as to inquire your name?”

The girl waved her hand, appearing to still be unaware of what was happening, “It’s alright, sir, I’m not a lady of the nobility and don’t mind it much.

My full name is Becky Sharp.”

Seeing that she was now trapped, Arthur no longer hid his intent; he poured her a cup of tea and smilingly asked, “Then, Miss Sharp, how did you know I was here?

I remember the address on the recruitment ad in the newspaper wasn’t here.

I can assure you, not more than ten people in all of London, even in the whole world, know I’m renting this place, and yet you’ve most fortunately become one of them now.”

Arthur had expected that with these words, Becky Sharp’s true intentions would be unveiled.

Unexpectedly, the girl with a Cambridge accent didn’t show the slightest discomfort but quite naturally offered up Fiona, “Mr.

Hastings, I almost forgot to tell you, Yvonne Miss told me you should be here.”

“You’re Fiona’s person?”

Arthur’s brow immediately furrowed upon hearing this.

This small house was specifically rented by him to meet with informal employees of the Police Intelligence Department, usually frequented by undercover operatives such as textile workers’ associations, insiders from London’s political alliances, or informants from various criminal organizations.

Fiona, being one of the contact persons for the Police Intelligence Department, of course knew this place.

Becky Sharp’s cheeks flushed; she seemed reluctant to bring up Fiona’s affair, “Well… If you must put it that way, but I don’t deal in those trades.

I am from Ely in Cambridge like Yvonne Miss, somewhat related to her.

The last time she returned to our hometown, she was very impressive, boasting about being a maid in the Russian Embassy, having the best food and accommodation, and even earning twelve shillings a week.”