The Shadow of Great Britain

Arthur closed his eyes and asked, ”Are you referring to Ernest and Albert of the Saxon-Coburg-Gotha Family?”

Hutter nodded slightly and said, ”Perhaps it even includes their father, the Duke and Duchess of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, who are the Duke of Kent’s elder brother and sister-in-law.”

The drizzle had not ceased, pattering on the carriage roof like some impatient urging.

The carriage finally came to a steady halt, and the driver opened an umbrella and jumped down, splashing a circle of water around his boots.

However, Arthur did not hurry to move. He turned his head to look at Hutter, who was still sitting upright, and whispered, ”During this period, keep in close contact with the Police Intelligence Department. Whether it’s officers, businessmen, nobility, political exiles, or those charlatans who linger in social circles, if anyone suddenly appears where they shouldn’t, communicate immediately.”

”Understood.” Hutter nodded in agreement. He paused, then added, ”I’ll prepare a summary every day during this period. Two copies, one I will personally deliver to your residence, and the other to Superintendent Ledley King at the Fifth Department?”

Arthur smiled, ”The other one goes directly to Director Charles Field.”

”And your copy?”

”My copy stays as usual.”

With that, he raised his cane and gently tapped the car door.

The driver outside immediately stepped forward, umbrella ready.

Arthur buttoned the top button of his coat, gave the brim of his hat a slight tap, and was about to get up, but then turned to add, ”You’ve worked hard today. Let the driver take you back later, and don’t get soaked on the way.”

”But you...”

”Don’t worry about me,” Arthur said indisputably, ”This bit of rain won’t melt me.”

Hutter opened his mouth to speak but eventually swallowed the words ”I’ll go up with you,” and just stood up properly, took off his hat, and bid farewell, ”As you command.”

Arthur nodded, said nothing further, and as he pushed open the car door, a gust of night wind carrying moisture greeted him.

His black ebony stick touched the ground first, lightly tapping on the stone steps, and then he swiftly got out of the carriage.

The umbrella held steadily over his head, shielding him from most of the wind and rain.

He took the umbrella from the driver’s hand, signaled with his cane for the driver to take Hutter back, and then walked confidently toward the Russian Cafe shrouded in rain and mist.

Through the window glass, Hutter watched Arthur’s figure disappear into the porch and finally breathed a slight sigh of relief.

He leaned back, adjusting the collar of his coat.

In some sense, getting along with Sir Arthur Hastings was no less stressful than with Count Benkendorf.

On the other hand, following the Sir indeed held promise, especially considering his unparalleled achievements in Ramsgate last year, and the fact that Princess Victoria was less than a month away from her legal adulthood.

...

In the reception room on the third floor of the cafe, the flames in the fireplace silently licked the red copper walls.

Plunkett placed his teacup on the table with a clink, the sound loud enough to make the muffins on the silver tray jiggle slightly.

”I say, Ledley,” Plunkett began, ”this Joint Documentation Office you proposed recently, isn’t it putting too much trust in the local precincts?”

Ledley’s mouth twitched, obviously wanting to rebut, but fearing he’d come across as petty in front of Director Field, he simply sipped his tea and said, ”Thomas, I just feel it’s about making the intelligence lines more efficient, not about trust issues.”

As Ledley’s former superior in Tower Hamlets, Chief Inspector Jones patted Plunkett on the shoulder, trying to mediate, ”Alright, don’t harp on about a snack that doesn’t suit your taste.”

Before he finished speaking, he saw Tom tug gently at his sleeve and nod towards the doorway.

Standing at the door in a pomegranate-red shawl, Fiona held a small silver tray, her expression seemingly calm, but her eyes clearly holding back anger.

Jones, seeing this, was immediately alarmed. He had only meant to use a metaphor, to caution Plunkett against bullying Ledley too much.

Who could have known she’d be standing right at the door?

Especially since Director Field apparently said a few inappropriate things in front of Fiona moments ago, making the influential lady beside Sir Arthur appear quite unhappy.

He hurriedly stood and apologized, ”Miss Ivan, please forgive me, I meant no offense, it was just a comparison.”

Plunkett, seeing his old friend in trouble, quickly chimed in to defend him, ”Yes, yes! Jones is just fast-talking, how could he compare your snacks to bothersome police matters? Surely none of us from Scotland Yard wouldn’t jump at the chance to come here every month for a bite? Just for that cup of tea, those muffins, London’s police are nearly fighting over it.”

The room filled with a dry laughter, slightly awkward and a bit uneasy.

Fiona said nothing in response, merely setting the tray down gently, her gaze sweeping over the officers before settling on Field, ”All the officers’ tea and snacks have been replenished; is there anything else I should instruct the kitchen to prepare?”

Field quickly stood, speaking earnestly, ”Thank you, Miss Ivan, everything is perfect.”

Fiona nodded slightly, ”Perfection is to be expected, after all, you officers serve His Majesty the King, and are also Sir Arthur’s most trusted friends.”

”I am merely a cafe proprietor, without title or rank, and certainly not someone who would appear on any official banquet invitation list.” She paused, her voice lowering slightly as if these words were meant only for the ears of the officers in the room, ”But I can’t have people thinking I can’t even serve a decent cup of tea to Sir Arthur’s friends.”