The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 344 - 344 211 French Thematic Encyclopedia 5K2_3

344: Chapter 211: French Thematic Encyclopedia (5K2)_3 344: Chapter 211: French Thematic Encyclopedia (5K2)_3 Arthur had just finished speaking when Dickens, who was waiting outside the interrogation room, leaning against the door and planning to invite Arthur to go fishing after the interrogation, and Chief Jones, who was standing nearby chatting with him, both burst out laughing.

From the vibrations of the door panel, it was clear they were laughing heartily.

However, in the interrogation room, the previously cheerful faces of the two Frenchmen fell almost in unison, their smiles vanishing entirely.

Of course, happiness doesn’t just disappear into thin air, it just shifts.

The Great Dumas’s face had turned nearly the color of liver; he asked, “Talleyrand really said that?”

Arthur took a sip of tea, “How could he?

I made it up.”

“Why would you make up something like that?”

“I was just thinking of livening up the atmosphere,” Arthur said with a smile, clapping the Great Dumas on the shoulder.

“Alright, Alexander, I’m done with my questions.

It’s your turn now.”

The Great Dumas glared at him fiercely.

Under normal circumstances, he might have just pushed back his chair and left.

But from what Louis Bonaparte had just said, the rotund Frenchman sensed something was off and, fearing sleepless nights if he didn’t clear it up, he could only hold his nose and let Arthur win this round.

Alexander began, “Let’s skip the routine questions.

I’m going to ask about some more private matters, things only someone close would know.

First, I hope you can list some of Napoleon’s peculiarities known only to a few.

I will use those to pose my questions.”

“Peculiarities?

There are plenty of those,” Louis Bonaparte responded confidently.

“Firstly, my uncle was a very cultured man.

He only applauded at the theatre once the performance was over, although this is basically known to all Parisians and hardly a secret.

He also had an extreme fondness for dousing himself in perfume, using up dozens of bottles of cologne each day.

That might be considered a moderate secret, known to those close to him.

But what I’m about to tell you now…

can only be known by the very closest individuals…

it’s about the love letters he wrote to my Aunt Josephine, his first wife and Queen…

“Oh?” Dumas couldn’t help leaning forward.

“What are you referring to?”

Arthur also couldn’t help but set down his teacup.

“Go on.”

Louis Bonaparte lowered his voice, “I will only tell you this as proof of my identity, but you mustn’t spread it around afterwards!”

Dumas swore, thumping his chest, “Of course, I am a playwright of integrity.

Do you know Victor?

Though not comparable to Napoleon, he is also a legend of France.

Many of Victor’s romances have been entrusted to me, and I have kept them quiet.”

Arthur nodded in agreement, “Exactly.

Although I’m not familiar with how French intelligence operations work, I must emphasize the confidentiality of Britain’s official intelligence organization.”

Having received their assurances, Louis Bonaparte then blushed and mustered his courage, “What most people don’t know is why my uncle was so obsessed with Josephine.

Even after he had to divorce her for a political alliance, he still corresponded with her long-term and continued to provide for her.

As a woman, my Aunt Josephine was of course beautiful, but my uncle had seen many women.

Why was he so devoted to this one?

Dumas’s eyes widened in anticipation.

“Indeed?

Why is that?”

Arthur also inquired, “Why indeed?”

Louis Bonaparte said with pride, “Why?

The secret lies in my uncle’s infatuation with Josephine’s unique body scent, a fascination so deep he once wrote to her in a letter to express his longing—not just for her love but also for her scent, her laughter, even her imperfections.

Perhaps such testimony isn’t compelling enough, but when Josephine passed away, my mother went to her residence to help sort through her belongings.

Among her possessions was a love letter.

Based on the date, it was written right after my uncle’s grand victory at the Battle of Austerlitz.

I thought it would contain much affectionate prose or perhaps boast about his achievements, but there was only one very brief line written.

Guess what it was?”

“What?”

Unable to hide his broadest smile of the day, Louis Bonaparte proclaimed, “Josephine, do not bathe.

I will return in three days.”

At these words, both Dumas and Arthur inhaled sharply and simultaneously reached to touch their chins, “Interesting.”

Seeing their reactions, Louis Bonaparte urged, “So, can what I’ve told you prove my identity?

When will you release me?”

Dumas pursed his lips, “I really don’t know about such matters, and I can’t say you’re wrong, but…”

He turned to Arthur, “What do you think we should do?”

Arthur nodded slightly, “Judging from the contents of that letter just now, it’s indeed quite French.

But as to its authenticity, I’ll have to forward it to the Foreign Office and let them check with Mr.

Joseph Bonaparte, who resides at Regency Crescent.”

Upon hearing this, Louis Bonaparte sprang up in alarm, “No, don’t!

If you ask him, won’t he know that I’m the one who leaked it?

Besides, to verify my identity, why not just take me to see him directly instead of going through all this trouble?”

Arthur smiled faintly at this, “Of course, we could also take you to him, but first you’ll need to sign a waiver of liability toward Scotland Yard.

Because if this turns out to involve a fraud, we’d have trouble explaining to Mr.

Joseph Bonaparte.”

“A waiver?” Louis Bonaparte dismissed with a wave of his hand, “You should have brought that out earlier.”

At these words, as if by magic, Arthur produced a document he had prepared in advance, showing the densely packed text on one side before flipping it over to a blank section for signing.

Pointing to the empty space, Arthur said, “If that’s the case, you just need to sign here.”