The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 200 - 200 136 The Center of Attention 4K6_3

200: Chapter 136: The Center of Attention (4K6)_3 200: Chapter 136: The Center of Attention (4K6)_3 Lady Cordington then remembered Arthur and the small favor he had mentioned to her, and she quickly nodded her head, saying, “No problem, Mr.

Hasting, we can understand.

It’s a necessity for work, and there’s nothing that can be done about it.”

Upon hearing this, Arthur simply smiled and nodded as he took his leave.

But before he could even step out of the ballroom, he saw Miss Ada Byron winking at him.

She stuffed a piece of draft paper into his hand and then told him, “The tune played on the phonograph is lovely, but I think you play it better by hand.”

Arthur deeply agreed and nodded, “You have a fine understanding of art, Miss Byron, because I think the same.”

After saying this, he sauntered away, but before he could even reach the door, someone else called him to a halt, and that was Mr.

Mozesales.

Mr.

Mozesales hurried after him, shouting loudly, “Mr.

Hasting!

Regarding the matter with the London Philharmonic Association, won’t you reconsider?

You need to attend only two concerts a month with us.

Perhaps you don’t know, but ever since Mr.

Paganini started that concert craze, the income level of musicians has also risen dramatically.”

“I assure you, with your talent, working with our orchestra, your earnings will surely not be less than what you make at the Greater London Police Department.

Here’s an idea, let me go back and discuss with a few members of the society, and the moment you join, we’ll pay you a performing artist’s fee.

A single concert could yield an income of about ten to fifteen pounds, and calculating twenty-four concerts a year, your income could be around three hundred pounds.

Moreover, this income level will continue to increase, and if you work a bit harder, surpassing a thousand pounds a year in the future is absolutely not a problem.

I truly implore you to seriously consider my suggestion.”

Arthur intended to refuse Mr.

Mozesales’s proposal, but hearing that musicians were now earning so high, even several times more than a detective, made him hesitate on what he was about to say.

“This…”

Seeing his hesitation, Mr.

Mozesales instantly understood there was a chance and quickly added, “Or, even if you don’t want a full-time position, an occasional guest performance would also do; we definitely won’t shortchange you on the compensation.”

The Red Devil, who had been freeloading in the ballroom all along, overhearing this, pulled out the handkerchief pinned to his chest and wiped the grease from his mouth, then spoke up, “Arthur, why are you hesitating?

A part-time concert can net you ten pounds; that’s nearly what you make in a month at Scotland Yard.

It’s no big deal to use your free time for a side gig; it’s not like starting a company or doing business, nor does it violate any internal regulations at Scotland Yard.”

Hearing this, Arthur thought it over for a while and finally grasped Mr.

Mozesales’s hand, “Mr.

Mozesales, you may not know, but music has always been my dream, and I thank you for giving me this opportunity to touch my dream.

I believe that when one is young, one should strive more, and being too practical in life isn’t right either.”

Upon hearing this, a huge weight was lifted off Mr.

Mozesales’s heart, and he grinned broadly while vigorously shaking Arthur’s hand.

“You are right, Mr.

Hasting.

Then, it’s settled.

When you’re free, just come find me directly at the London College of Music, you probably passed it on your way here; it’s not very far from General Cordington’s residence, just near Baker Street.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later then, Mr.

Mozesales.”

Arthur let out a long sigh, just as he thought he was about to end his exhausting journey for the day, his peripheral vision suddenly caught a glimpse of a carriage parked in front of the mansion, modest yet subtly luxurious.

His eyes flickered with a hint of red glow, feeling as if someone was watching him through the carriage window’s curtain.

But before he could figure it out, he heard the impatient voice of the employed coachman from the high-end London carriage rental company, “Mr.

Hasting, may we go back now?”

Arthur hesitated for a moment, but ultimately did not walk over to the luxurious carriage across the street.

He got into his own carriage and straightened his collar in the chilly autumn night air, “Let’s go, we’re heading back.”