The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 351 - 351 214 The Arsenic Eater of London 4K_2

351: Chapter 214: The Arsenic Eater of London (4K)_2 351: Chapter 214: The Arsenic Eater of London (4K)_2 The young man voiced his doubts, “Are officers really that miraculous?”

“Are you a Yankee?” Arthur eyed the young man up and down.

“No wonder, I thought your accent was a bit strange.”

The young man seemed quite displeased at being singled out as an American, his face flushed as he responded, “Sir, it doesn’t matter where I’m from.

What matters is, I can provide you with the percussion revolver you want.

I’ve been here for nearly three days, yet none of these old London bureaucrats have taken me seriously.

I assure you, my Colt Revolver is absolutely the best portable firearm in the world so far.

If the officers at Scotland Yard were equipped with this product, it would definitely be of great help to you!

Before, you had to reload after firing a shot, but now you can take down six enemies with one load—that’s a sixfold increase in combat efficiency.

Are you sure you don’t want to consider it?”

“Colt Revolver?” Arthur, upon hearing this term, was stunned for a moment.

After pondering for a while, he thought of a name he had once seen in a military magazine and tentatively asked, “Samuel Colt?”

When Colt heard Arthur blurt out his name, he was so surprised that he opened his mouth wide, hardly knowing what to say.

“You…

How could you tell I’ve been adrift at sea for a year?

And how do you even know my name?”

Arthur, on hearing this, simply pulled out his pipe with a hint of mystery, “That’s right, that’s how detectives are.”

The guard beside them, seeing Arthur about to light up, panicked and snatched away the matches and matchbox, “My God!

Mr.

Hastings!

The gunpowder storeroom is just next door, do you plan to blow us all to the heavens?”

It was then that Arthur remembered where he was.

He quickly put down his now redundant hand and gave an embarrassed laugh, “Sorry.”

He looked at Colt again, and after a moment’s thought, he said, “Wait for me here for a while.

Once I’ve finished my business, we can continue discussing your revolver.

Although I can’t interfere with Scotland Yard’s overall decisions regarding equipment purchase, I do have the autonomy to make small decisions within my own department.”

With that said, Arthur turned to the guard and said, “Come on, sir, let’s go to the laboratory first.”

Standing behind him, Colt could not conceal his elation upon hearing this.

The nineteen-year-old American yelled after Arthur, “Detective sir, I haven’t had lunch yet, I’ll be waiting at the café outside!

With your amazing deductive skills, you surely know which café I’m talking about, right?

Don’t stand me up!”

No sooner had Colt finished speaking than he turned and sprinted towards the exit, occasionally jumping up and down and clenching his fists to punch the air.

It was obvious that the young man was thrilled at the chance of securing a new order.

Noticing this scene, Arthur simply turned to the guard and asked, “How many cafés are there outside the factory?”

“Just one.”

“Then good.”

Following the guard’s lead, Arthur crossed the workshop to reach a small red brick building not far from the back of the workshop.

Walking through the concrete forecourt, and just as he reached the second floor, Arthur smelled a strong, pungent scent.

He pondered for a while, feeling that the odor was somewhat familiar.

After thinking for a long time, he finally confirmed that this scent was extremely similar to the French garlic that Great Dumas had planted in the garden.

Just as Arthur thought the guard was leading him to the arsenal’s experimental kitchen, the room that came into view as the door was opened was neither a bustling cooking scene nor any sweating chefs.

The overall arrangement of the room was identical to the laboratories the Royal Society provided for chemists, with various colorful solutions and transparent beakers filling several shelves, and in the center of the room on the experimental table, a beaker was being heated.

The guard tapped lightly on the door with his finger and prompted, “Mr.

Marsh.”

The man who was standing in front of the beaker frowning in thought looked up and noticed Arthur and the guard.

He spoke, “And who might this be?”

“Mr.

Arthur Hastings, Scotland Yard Inspector.”

“Ah!

It’s you, come in quickly.”

James Marsh invited Arthur inside and, while pointing to the bubbling, heated liquid in the beaker, he explained, “I must say, Scotland Yard is very lucky to have taken on this case.

If this had happened a few weeks earlier, the truth might have been lost forever.”

Hearing this, Arthur followed up with a question, “So you mean to say…

Mr.

Marsh, have you discovered some interesting phenomena?”

“Interesting may not be the word, but I believe it to be a tragedy.”

Marsh began, “With life and death at stake, I will not beat around the bush with you.

You may have heard some news from the Royal Medical Association; just recently I discovered a method to test for traces of arsenic.

The beaker before you contains hydrochloric acid, hydrogen sulfate, and food residue extracted from the victim’s stomach.

According to the test method, once these mixtures are heated, and if there are traces of arsenic in the food residue, arsine gas will be produced, which is, to be more precise, the intense garlic smell you are now detecting.”

“Arsenic?” Arthur couldn’t help but frown at the mention of this element.

Speaking of arsenic might be too scientifically precise; if one were to call it by its common name—arsenic trioxide—then it would seem much more familiar to many.

Arsenic trioxide, as a historically notorious poison, has been used for homicide in both the East and the West, with records dating back to several centuries before the Common Era.

Firstly, as James Marsh mentioned, for a long time, humanity lacked the scientific means to consistently detect traces of arsenic.

Secondly, as a perfect poison, arsenic trioxide, by itself, is tasteless.

When dissolved in water, it only makes the water slightly sweet, making it difficult for the victim to realize they’ve been poisoned.

Moreover, the symptoms of poisoning, such as diarrhea and vomiting, are easily confused with other diseases.

After all, at this time in London, several epidemics that commonly caused diarrhea and vomiting were rampant.

A person who was poisoned would just assume they had come down with an illness due to bad luck.

But most crucially, arsenic trioxide was very easy to come by.

Since the Industrial Revolution, various metal smelting industries had thrived in Britain, and the various arsenic compounds that were by-products of metallurgy were carefully packaged by factory owners and sold as special vermin control products such as rat poison and flypaper.

And what was even more outrageous was that, since the time of Elizabeth I, women of all social strata in London started using various arsenic-containing cosmetics, from the simplest face creams to high-end perfumes, nearly all of which contained traces of arsenic.

Also, a so-called Fowler’s solution, recognized in London as an effective remedy for malaria, contained arsenic.

Thinking of this, Arthur finally understood why Bernie Harrison had been so confident.

Because being overpowered by arsenic leading to death wasn’t necessarily sufficient to convict him of murder unless Scotland Yard obtained a complete chain of evidence of the crime.

Otherwise, even with the test results from the stomach contents, it was impossible to fully convict him.

Many ladies in society voluntarily consumed arsenic to achieve a rosy complexion, and not a few died as a result.

To bring down a Member of Parliament over such a trivial matter, particularly a perfumer skilled in the art, was no easy feat.

Reflecting on this, Arthur became deeply contemplative.

He was pondering how to convict Bernie Harrison when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Agares rushing in through the wall.

The Red Devil, looking as if something had frightened him, grabbed Arthur and urgently motioned to leave, “Arthur!

Damn it, come outside and look, I’ve seen those bloody fools fishing out bodies by the Thames River again!”