The Shadow of Great Britain

As long as he takes a seat at the Police Commissioner Committee, asks a few questions, nods, and casually writes a note in the memorandum like ”I hope Sir Arthur Hastings can continue his effective assistance to the Government with his honorable professional experience and ethics,” that would be sufficient.

Because Arthur has no reason to oppose the new Police Bill at all, all he needs is a signal from the Whig Party, and the Home Secretary’s personal visit is the starting gun.

As things stand now, even the most pessimistic individuals within Scotland Yard do not doubt that the new Police Bill will pass through Parliament with unstoppable momentum.

And after the bill is passed, due to the expansion of jurisdiction, Scotland Yard will surely have a surge in positions—Chief of Police, Police Superintendent, and the Police Chief role that Ledley is so eager about, or even... even the Assistant Police Director could be contemplated...

Or at least, if not Assistant Police Director, it would be a position between Assistant Police Director and Police Chief...

Ledley remembered, vaguely overhearing a conversation a few days ago when he passed by Arthur’s office door.

”Metropolitan Police District is reorganized into nineteen sub-regions, each sub-region further divided into branches, and branches into sections, each section into patrol areas. Officers are responsible for the security of patrol areas, Chiefs manage sections, Superintendents oversee branches, and the Chief Police Officers administer the entire sub-region. Aside from the nineteen Metropolitan sub-regions, the Thames River Police Sub-Region and the five military dockyard sub-regions of Woolwich, Portsmouth, Devonport, Chatham, and Pembroke are all integrated under the unified management of Scotland Yard. Additionally, the capital’s police district adds four positions between Assistant Commissioner and Police Chief, each responsible for directly overseeing one quarter of the capital’s police district, titled Chief Police Officer.”

Chief Police Officer?

Good heavens!

Does Scotland Yard currently have this position?

My news as Ledley King shouldn’t be so dated, right?

At this thought, Ledley’s hands couldn’t help but tremble.

The lifestyle issues he had on Yellow Chrysanthemum Street were at most inappropriate, but if Sir Arthur’s plans were sabotaged by some petty evildoers leading to the failure of the new Police Bill, that would be a real disgrace.

Such people are not only pests of humanity but also public enemies of the over-four thousand officers at Scotland Yard and must be swiftly removed as potential criminals.

Therefore, when Ledley finally put down his sandwich and raised his eyes to stare at Lewis, the feeling of pressure came quietly yet heavy as a brick.

”Mr. Lewis.” Ledley repeated his question: ”Which department are you exactly from, and what is your purpose in probing information about Sir Arthur?”

Lewis was stunned by the question, as if he hadn’t expected it to be so direct.

He instinctively straightened his back, trying to make himself look like someone with credentials.

”Me? I’m just... a freelance journalist.” He said this, and casually adjusted his cheap soft felt hat, trying to appear less threatening: ”Sir Arthur... enjoys my articles, and we had a stimulating conversation last night, but it was incomplete, so he invited me to Scotland Yard today for a visit.”

Blackwell gasped when he heard the word ”journalist,” relieved that he hadn’t spoken recklessly.

But Ledley didn’t show much surprise.

He slowly raised a finger, tapping the table lightly.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Each tap resonated in Lewis’s chest.

”A journalist, huh.” Ledley said blandly: ”It’s common for journalists to inquire about civil servants’ personal details, I understand.”

Lewis instinctively sighed in relief, ready to nod, but Ledley’s next words suddenly struck like a knife.

”But you’re not inquiring about an ordinary civil servant’s personal details.” Ledley fixed his gaze on Lewis’s face: ”You’re inquiring about the member and secretary-general of the Police Commissioner Committee, someone within London’s security system who should never be scrutinized by journalists.”

Lewis’s smile became stiff: ”I... I’m just curious...”

”Journalists are naturally curious.” Ledley suddenly switched to a smile: ”But curiosity needs limits. Who would come to White Hall early in the morning to probe the preferences of serving members of the Police Commissioner Committee? Who would wander around the Scotland Yard headquarters? Who would suddenly mention Sir Arthur’s name on Yellow Chrysanthemum Street?”

”What? Yellow Chrysanthemum Street?” Lewis thought he misheard: ”I said, what I saw at Yellow Chrysanthemum Street was...”

Ledley didn’t let him finish: ”Listen carefully, journalist. You’re not the only one Sir Arthur appreciates, and the journalists he appreciates usually fall into two categories. The first type comes to Scotland Yard, and we can open our arms to invite them for a drink. But if you’re the second type, I’d suggest you’d better not visit places like Yellow Chrysanthemum Street at night. The fog is dense and the road is slippery, easy to fall.”

Ledley’s ”fall” obviously did not mean literally.

Lewis swallowed, wanting to say something.

Ledley leisurely poured himself a cup of tea: ”One more thing, I remind you. You likely know which bill Sir Arthur is busy with lately. He doesn’t like people snooping in the background, nor does he like people writing indiscriminately. If someone accidentally writes something inappropriate, causing certain people in Parliament to exploit the opportunity...”