The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1060: Chapter 81: The Detective’s Trick_2

Arthur joked, “But it seems like this hypocrite has been promoted now?”

Victor snorted, “He spends every day doing the least risky work, it’s rare for him to make a mistake in a year. If you work in such a place, you too would get promoted!”

As soon as Victor said this, not only Arthur fell silent, but even Victor himself did too.

The two exchanged a glance, then lowered their heads in unison and sighed together.

A simple phrase, yet it pierced both of their hearts.

In a way, the career paths of these two great detectives had been quite similar over the past two years.

One of them had taken a bullet that wasn’t meant for him during the riots in London, while the other had turned the tide during the Paris Republican uprising.

In the end, one was exiled to Hanover, and the other was forcibly retired internally.

Although Victor said he envied that Arthur could still work in public service, Arthur knew in his heart that if he hadn’t been knocked down by that bullet and lay in a coffin in St Martin’s Church for three days to create the miracle of coming back to life.

Then at this moment, his outcome might have been worse than Victor’s.

Whether it was embezzling public funds at the London Stock Exchange or ordering the police to open fire under the Tower of London, all responsibilities would have fallen on him.

Although the Cabinet might, in consideration of his ‘hardship’, not really let the court sentence him to hanging, they would surely push him out to face the firepower of Fleet Street.

Forget about any low peerage knight or second-class secretary positions at the Foreign Office, he might not even be able to survive in Britain from now on.

But precisely because he lay in St Martin’s Church for three days, this infuriated the officers at Scotland Yard, after all, there were quite a few officers there who valued their friendship with him.

Even Lord Rowan, who always looked down on him, was willing to take risks at such a critical moment, going directly to the Home Office to confront Viscount Melbourne.

Plus, with the goodwill Arthur had accumulated over the years, along with the King’s appreciation and sympathy and the joint efforts of the Duke of Wellington, Lord Brougham, and others, this was how they managed to handle it with a cold treatment for this young man from rural York.

In other words, under normal circumstances, the path to success he took would require at least three lives.

Even for Arthur himself, he needed at least two lives.

The two remained silent for a while, and ultimately Victor was the first to break the silence.

“Enough, let’s not mention these dreary matters anymore. The most important thing right now is to find out what treasure Barthelemy has in his sack. He wouldn’t appear at St. Pelagie Prison for no reason; usually only criminals and political prisoners are held here, not clients and prostitutes.”

The two of them followed Barthelemy’s carriage westward out of the Latin Quarter and Saint-Germain district, and as their carriage drove out of the main city, the roads became less and less crowded with vehicles and pedestrians.

When there’s a lot of traffic, it’s hard to tell if someone is following you.

But when traffic is sparse, every trick and scheme becomes impossible to hide.

Arthur discreetly patted Victor’s leg, then nodded towards the side with his head.

Victor raised his hand to touch the brim of his hat, signaling to Arthur that he too noticed something was amiss.

When the carriage left St. Pelagie Prison, they thought they were the mantis catching the cicada.

But now they realized there were a few yellow birds following behind them.

Arthur took out a golden pocket watch from his chest, and the glass inside the lid clearly reflected the two carriages trailing them closely.

Who were these people?

Arthur’s heart was filled with suspicion.

Those Breton Royalists?

Are they following me and Victor, or are they surveilling the Great Paris Police Hall?

If it really were them, then it would mean that the forged identity documents indeed came from Francois’s hand.

And Francois’s life or death also remained uncertain; even if he truly was dead, it wouldn’t have been done by these Royalists, as no one would send people to track a corpse that can no longer leak secrets.

But if these people aren’t Royalists, who could they be?

This endless speculation always irritated Arthur, but fortunately, he no longer needed to think.

At the end of the narrow street, a carriage suddenly appeared, quietly parked there without any intention of giving way.

This carriage not only blocked Barthelemy’s path but also Arthur and Victor’s way.

And behind them, the two carriages responsible for tailing them also stopped.

The coachman, seeing the situation, was about to impatiently ask the vehicle blocking their way to move, but then he remembered he was on a tracking mission, and his rage was quickly suppressed again.

But he never expected that the two gentlemen who had just reminded him to stay discreet suddenly shouted, “Forget it, just charge through!”

“Huh?”

The coachman hadn’t figured out what was going on, he scratched his head and turned around to ask, “Gentlemen, you…”

Before he could finish his sentence, a pedestrian launched himself at him, pinning him to the ground.

He stubbornly raised his head in an attempt to fight back, but the heavy punch from the assailant quickly made his head droop.

It was only then that he noticed the two carriages trailing behind him.

The carriage doors swung open, and several thugs wearing wide-brimmed hats and burgundy vests hopped out as if performing tap dance. They stepped confidently, flinging their tailcoats aside to reveal holsters hanging on their belts.