The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 313 - 313 201 Riddle 4K_2

313: Chapter 201 Riddle (4K)_2 313: Chapter 201 Riddle (4K)_2 Disraeli had an expression as if he’d seen a ghost, “Thank God, I’ve only one detective friend like you in my life.

If there were more, someone might have guessed the color of my underwear today.”

Arthur, hearing this, suddenly remembered the recently updated file in Disraeli’s case.

In those days, social mores were still relatively conservative on the surface, so aside from some upper-class ladies who had a need for lace underwear, most people opted to buy fabric and make their own undergarments at home.

Not long ago, an agent from the Police Intelligence Department had accidentally seen Disraeli purchasing a small piece of dark green fabric in a cloth shop, a piece so small it couldn’t have been for anything other than a pair of shorts.

Thus, Arthur replied offhandedly, “Dark green.”

Once these words left Arthur’s mouth, Disraeli was genuinely shocked; he stopped in his tracks and stared with wide eyes, “How on earth did you know that?”

Arthur shook his finger, “Don’t be nervous, Benjamin, it was merely a guess.

It just so happens I guessed right.”

“I know it was a guess!

You couldn’t possibly stand on my windowsill every day to watch me change my underwear, right?” Disraeli asked, “What I’m asking is how you guessed?”

Arthur glanced at Disraeli’s exceedingly flashy attire and spoke lightly, “Just as you said, Benjamin, you’re a fashion icon in the London social scene, always meticulous about your style.

Take today, for instance, you’re wearing a Byzantine purple tailcoat with a burgundy pair of trousers, so from a color coordination standpoint, I assumed you’d go for a pair of dark green underwear.”

Hearing this, Disraeli couldn’t help but clap in admiration, “Arthur, I must say I never realized just how detailed your observational skills were.

Although I’ve always known that being a detective is no ordinary job, requiring knowledge in chemistry, natural history, and even criminal psychology.

I didn’t expect you to be so attentive to fashion trends and color coordination.

No wonder you became a renowned figure in the police force admired by the citizens of London.”

Arthur simply smiled and tipped his hat in acknowledgment, “You flatter me, Benjamin, my observations of London’s fashion scene are surely no match for yours.”

Disraeli then asked, “But you still haven’t told me, why are you suddenly thinking of buying cologne?

You really don’t have any scent on you.”

Arthur chose to deflect Disraeli’s inquiry, given that the case involved a Member of Parliament and he wasn’t willing to divulge too much without a clear understanding of the situation.

He sidetracked the issue, “The absence of body odor is because I bathe regularly, Benjamin.

Don’t mind those science magazines’ nonsense; bathing less frequently won’t decrease your likelihood of falling ill.

Simply wiping your body with a wet towel every night won’t solve your hygiene issues.

As for the cologne, I plan to use it as a deodorant.

I intend to have the night soil man clean the cesspit at my house soon, and I’ll need the cologne to freshen up the air.”

Disraeli, upon hearing this, couldn’t help but inquire, “Speaking of which, my household’s toilet could use a cleaning too.

By the way, is the cost still two shillings?”

Arthur replied, “It’s gone up a bit since the economy is doing quite well, and wages for all kinds of jobs have risen.

It’s only right to pay a few more pennies for such dirty and strenuous work.”

The two continued chatting along their way, and before long, they arrived in front of a small house in the backyard.

Before entering, they could already sense the air filled with a variety of fragrant aromas.

With just one sniff, they felt refreshed and rejuvenated.

These days, places like this were rare in London.

Upon entering, they immediately saw a middle-aged man wearing only a shirt, holding a medical spoon in one hand and a perfume bottle in the other, muttering something to himself in front of a table full of colorful bottles and jars.

“Marchioness of Greater London’s Mediterranean Passion, 8 drops of bergamot, 1 drop of grapefruit, 5 drops of orange, 1 drop of cardamom…

Earl of Chelsea’s Bordeaux Pastoral, 4 drops of lavender, 4 drops of joyweed, 2 drops of orange blossom, 2 drops of rosemary…”

The young lad, observing the situation, stepped forward and softly called out, “Mr.

Riddle, there are customers here to see you about a custom-ordered cologne.”

Riddle?

Arthur heard the name and instantly remembered the “Book of Perfume” he had smoothly taken from Fiona’s hands.

Was this babbling gentleman before him the recently thriving French perfumer in London known as Riddle?

When Riddle heard the young lad’s voice, he just irritably rubbed his hair.

“Alright, I got it.

Leave the list, I’ll prepare it later.

Right now, I need to focus on finishing several big orders.

Blending perfume is a precise craft—one drop too much or too little of an essential oil, and the fragrance will present a completely different effect.

I need to carefully consider how to make these noble gentlemen and ladies emanate a unique fragrance at the parties, giving off a scent that makes one instantly think that the person who blended their perfume is no ordinary hand,” Riddle grumbled.

Seeing this, the young lad wanted to say more to Riddle but hesitated.

He knew that this perfumer was someone the boss had spent a lot of money to hire.

If he angered him enough to throw down his tools and quit, he couldn’t take the responsibility.

Observing this, Arthur just patted the young lad’s shoulder, signaling he could go about his business, and there was no need to worry here.

Seeing this, the young lad first breathed a sigh of relief, then took off his hat and gave Arthur an apologetic smile before leaving.

Once Arthur saw him walk away, he placed his hands behind his back and strolled up behind Riddle.

He watched as Riddle shakily extended the medicine spoon into the essential oil bottle and then carefully added drops one by one into the mixing cup.

Arthur suddenly asked, “I heard there’s a cologne here that Sir Isaac Newton used?”

Arthur had been silent up to that point, but his sudden voice startled Riddle so much that he nearly knocked over the mixing bottle onto the floor.

Riddle turned around abruptly, and as he did, his longish hair flipped back over his head.

Riddle snapped, “Who are you?

This is my private space, and you absolutely cannot enter without permission.

Didn’t Mr.

Baxter tell you that?”

Mr.

Baxter, mentioned by Riddle, was the owner of the shop, and judging by his reaction, he seemed to mistake Arthur for a new assistant.

However, for Arthur, it didn’t matter what Riddle thought of him.

Thanks to his previous interactions with Victor, he had fully grasped how to deal with a Frenchman.

Arthur simply took out his police badge from his pocket and showed it to Riddle: “Arthur Hastings, Detective Inspector of the Criminal Investigation Department at the Greater London Police Department.

May I come in now?”

“A police officer?!”

Upon hearing this title, Riddle quickly leaned back, guarding his perfume bottles.

“What… what are you here for?

I’m conducting my business honestly, I haven’t done anything illegal.

What right do you have to arrest me?” Riddle protested.

Arthur put away his badge and said with a smile, “Mr.

Riddle, you are quite right.

French police may not need a reason to arrest someone, but British police do need a reason, at least to some extent.

So, I’m not here to arrest you today, but rather to find a cologne that suits me.

What kind of fragrance do you think I need that will make criminals sense the aura of danger on me with just one whiff when they get close?”

Relieved at hearing this, Riddle swallowed nervously and replied, “Forgive my frankness, but you’re dangerous enough as is.

Really, you don’t need any perfume.”