The Shadow of Great Britain

Tom raised his eyebrows as he listened, wanting to say something but hesitated when he saw Tony winking at him, so, in the end, this honest man just cleared his throat awkwardly and smiled: ”Actually... you don’t have to be so meticulous, we’re all rough folks here, hardly able to tell the good from the bad.”

”How could it be unnecessary?” She immediately retorted, her eyes shifting to Ledley: ”Chief Inspector Jin, this cup of red tea with honey is for you; I remember you were coughing badly the last time you came.”

Ledley was taken aback, quickly stood up to take the tea cup: ”You remember... thank, thank you.”

”Of course, I remember.” Fiona smiled and turned to Tony: ”Chief Inspector Ackhart, did you notice? These muffins are soaked with rose water; I remember you said last winter your wife loves this flavor.”

Tony opened his mouth, feeling his lips go numb: ”Uh... yes, thank you.”

She slightly lifted the tray in her hand and gave the crowd an appropriately measured curtsy: ”Please enjoy, everyone. I’ll be downstairs, call me anytime should you need anything.”

After a brief silence, the officers exchanged glances.

Plunkett looked at the empty doorway and whispered: ”Let me tell you, Miss Ivan’s tricks... are tighter than the confidentiality files of our Police Intelligence Department...”

Before Plunkett could finish, a light patter of footsteps suddenly sounded by the door.

Everyone instinctively looked over, only to see a familiar silhouette already standing at the staircase; the well-tailored dark grey wool coat swayed slightly, raindrops quietly dripping down its hem onto the carpet.

The black ebony stick was dexterously put away by him, yet before he could personally hand it over, a pearl-gloved hand already reached out ahead.

It was Fiona.

At some unknown time, she had quietly made her way around the small corridor by the stairs, showing up beside Arthur just before he entered the meeting room, her stance so natural as if she just happened to be passing by.

Arthur glanced at her, said nothing, just nodded slightly in greeting.

But inside the room, almost everyone promptly set aside their teacups.

Tom instinctively swallowed a gulp, sneaking a glance at Tony beside him, only to find Tony’s expression even more remarkable than his own.

Anyone could see, and even if one didn’t, they could feel it from these minute details.

Miss Fiona Ivan, one of the top women in London’s underground society, controlling countless underlings and informants, seemed to be urgently driven by the sudden appearance of Miss Flora Hastings.

Fiona just steadied the coat and cane as she took them, immediately instructing the staff to dry the coat in a low voice.

Her actions were crisp and efficient, and if the officers hadn’t witnessed it all, they would absolutely not have felt a hint of deliberateness.

What Fiona did seemed to prove to everyone that this wasn’t the first time and certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Completely oblivious Arthur walked into the meeting room, surveying the surroundings, everyone rising to greet.

”Sir Arthur.”

”You’re all present.” Arthur smiled and gestured for everyone to sit down: ”Seems I’m a few minutes earlier than expected.”

Fiona retreated not far behind Arthur, tip-toeing to whisper in his ear: ”Your tea is brewing; I’ll have someone bring it shortly.”

”Much appreciated.” Arthur didn’t turn back, merely asked: ”Alexander sent me a few bottles of perfume from Paris; I left it at Nightingale Mansion.”