The Shadow of Great Britain

718: Chapter 345 Unwritten Rules_2 718: Chapter 345 Unwritten Rules_2 Everyone turned their heads and, with warm enthusiasm, reached out to greet the newcomer, “Officer Bonaparte.”

Louis glanced at the group of police officers and asked with great confusion, “What are all of you doing here?”

“Nothing,” replied Officer Sam casually, “just looking at the nine-section whip in Inspector Hastings’s office reminded us of the glorious and tumultuous days of past battles.”

But no sooner had he finished speaking than another officer stepped on his foot.

Sam then realized he might have misspoke, as those turbulent years were mostly spent battling the Bonaparte family.

Sam quickly corrected himself, “Your uncle indeed was an outstanding military genius.

I might even say that before Waterloo, his performance in military command was nearly perfect.

It’s just that I didn’t witness it myself, which, in a way, is quite regrettable.

Please forgive me; I enlisted rather late.

“Fortunately, you are here.

Perhaps you could consider implementing your family’s renowned Napoleonic tactics at Scotland Yard.

I assure you, Duke Wellington will certainly not be siding with the riffraff of London this time; he will definitely be on our side.”

The officers, upon hearing this, could not help but join in the jest, “Are you planning to race to Paris with Duke Wellington then?”

Officer Scarlett retorted to Sam sarcastically, “Now I see why your progress has been so slow, Sam.

You truly deserve not being able to afford a whipping.”

Louis, upon hearing this, wasn’t too upset; instead, he just felt a bit helpless.

If it were possible, he certainly wouldn’t want to mingle with these British buffoons.

But given the downfall of the Bonaparte family, compared to other European powerhouses like Prussia and Austria, Britain had already become the best choice for a base.

Louis could only change the subject, reminding them, “Excuse my boldness, but you may have misunderstood those items in the office.

They are not materials for making cat-o’-nine-tails but rather some insulating metal wires.

The Police Intelligence Department is starting to employ some groundbreaking technologies to build a more efficient communication system between headquarters and various police stations, and these wires are part of our trial.”

“Groundbreaking technology?

Metal wires?”

The illiterate, retired army officers spent quite some time figuring out the meaning of these trendy new terms.

“I see, everyone knows Inspector Hastings likes these new gadgets.

Didn’t he used to hold lectures on ballistics and toxicology for our mid-level officers?”

“And I think he also knows Mr.

Faraday.

I read in the newspaper that Inspector Hastings has achieved quite a lot in electromagnetism?

This new technology must be related to electromagnetism as well, right?”

“Using electric shocks as punishment for those criminals who refuse to confess?

That’s a good technology!”

Louis, perplexed by their random guesses, didn’t know where to begin explaining, but if explanations wouldn’t clarify, then he’d prefer not to explain at all.

After all, Arthur had already informed them, considering the cost and the immature state of telegraph technology, this technology would tentatively be executed only in police stations close to headquarters.

Moreover, the few police stations equipped with telegraph machines would also be assigned special commissioners from the Police Intelligence Department to manage and fine-tune the telegraphs.

If within a year, the telegraph technology co-developed by Mr.

Wheatstone and Mr.

Cooke passes the reliability certification by the Police Intelligence Department, Arthur would then consider promoting it extensively at Scotland Yard.

In other words, the initially set up telegraph equipment were all essentially freeloaded from Wheatstone by Arthur.

Louis pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it, suddenly saying, “You all better head to the meeting room and report in.

The weekly police services meeting across the districts is about to start soon.

If you miss it, Sir Mayne would likely be furious, especially since today is the first London metropolitan police meeting after the reorganization of Scotland Yard.”

“Oh!

Darn!

Almost forgot about this.”

It was only after Louis’s reminder that the officers realized they had almost neglected their duties.

The group, still chuckling and chatting a moment ago, suddenly scattered like birds, each rushing up the spiral stairs toward the third-floor meeting room.

Louis glanced at the officers, who had come in like the wind and left like the rain, and merely gave a light grunt before heading into his office with the files.

Just as he was pulling out a chair to sit down, he looked up and discovered Arthur, hidden behind the chief’s desk amidst a pile of wires.

Louis, amused, asked, “Arthur, so you’re here?”

Arthur, unhurriedly taking a cigar box out and lighting one slowly, replied, “Where else could I be during work hours?”

Louis got up, took a sherry from the cabinet, poured two glasses, kept one for himself, and handed the other to Arthur, “If those guys knew you were just sitting in the office, they wouldn’t dare gossip outside.”

Arthur nodded slightly, “You’re right, which is why I can’t let them see me.

Louis, you don’t know, when I was a beat cop on the streets, getting the inside scoop around the department was always easy, the secretaries and guards at headquarters were always happy to chat with me.

But ever since I took up this damned office, my channels for information within Scotland Yard have somewhat narrowed.

Take Rowan’s recent plans to take action in the Criminal Investigation Department, for instance.

I, the person in charge, was actually the last to know.”

“So you came up with this sneaky trick?

But Arthur, no offense, you can’t know everything.

As the head of the Police Intelligence Department, you even know which underwear Mr.

Disraeli is wearing today.

You’re already at that level, what more could you ask for?”

Arthur, sitting amidst the wires as if he had put on a swim ring, commented, “I’m not interested in what Benjamin is wearing underneath.

If our detectives could provide me with some more valuable information, I wouldn’t mind being completely ignorant about Benjamin’s clothing choices.

But the truth is, they can’t get anything else, so they just focus on Benjamin and write useless stuff.

After all, that guy standing on the street looks like a colorful peacock.

Do you really need to wait for it to unfurl its feathers to know what color a peacock’s butt is?

It’s not a difficult thing.”

Louis looked at Arthur’s comical setup and laughed heartily, “Burying yourself in wires, aren’t you afraid of electromagnetic induction?”

Arthur took a sip of his drink, “Louis, although I don’t want to refute your understanding of electromagnetism, the necessary condition for electromagnetic induction is that you must be moving.

Sitting still like me won’t generate an induced electric field.”

Louis, somewhat regretful, put his arm around Arthur’s shoulder, “Arthur, you really shouldn’t say that.

If you remain still, the ladies will be very disappointed.”

Arthur unfolded the newspaper, “It seems you’ve made significant breakthroughs in your censorship work recently, but as your superior, I also want to remind you that at your age, it’s best not to censor too much.”

Louis just grinned and said, “Rather than worrying about me, you might want to worry about Alexander.

Censoring a few books won’t put too much strain on me physically, but getting hands-on like Alexander does…”

“Alexander?” Arthur turned to look at Louis, “What about our great writer?”

“I don’t know, maybe Stendhal’s ‘The Red and the Black’ inspired him.

Lately, he seems addicted to playing the role of Yulian.

Of course, Alexander’s motives for doing so are much simpler, or rather, his methods and goals are highly consistent.”

Arthur picked up his glass, “Why don’t you just say his flirtatious nature has erupted again?

But that’s not a big deal.

The culture in France has always been open, and as the author of ‘The Count of Monte Cristo,’ Alexander has never lacked female supporters.

It was entirely expected that the chubby fellow would make a move on them.”

Louis, smiling, said, “If it was just that, I wouldn’t have brought it up.

In fact, from my collaboration with the ‘British’ on adapting scripts at the Astley Circular Theatre, I’ve heard that Alexander seems to be using his authorial power to hook up with actresses who want an opportunity to perform.”