The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 440 - 440 246 Bishop's Visit

440: Chapter 246 Bishop’s Visit 440: Chapter 246 Bishop’s Visit London, Westminster, 4 Whitehall, Greater London Police Department.

Scotland Yard was exceptionally lively today.

In addition to the busy officers, many clergymen in black robes had also arrived.

They were invited by Scotland Yard, volunteering to provide moral guidance to the wayward ladies.

Among them were priests from the National Church’s Anglican Church appointed by the respected Archbishops of Canterbury and York, as well as members from other Protestant denominations such as the Scottish Presbyterian Church, the Baptist Church, and the Quakers.

Although Catholics loyal to the Pope were usually unwelcome in Britain’s upper circles, perhaps out of respect for Hastings, who claimed to be Catholic, or considering the diversity of the ladies’ beliefs, a few Catholic priests were invited to Scotland Yard to absolve their sins.

Arthur stood in front of the office window looking out.

He took a sip from his steaming cup of tea and sighed softly, “There was no need to save my face to this extent.

What if these Catholic priests get enthusiastic and decide to discuss scripture with me?”

The Red Devil mocked with a sneer and a laugh, “Oh, my dear Arthur, now you’ve really shot yourself in the foot.

Why did you go around claiming to be a Catholic?

Just to skip the National Church prayers and sleep an extra half hour, look at the fuss it’s caused.”

Arthur gazed at the huddle of priests and priests disembarking below and simply shook his head, “Perhaps it’s best if I don’t show my face today.”

The Red Devil teased, “Aren’t you going to take this opportunity with so many priests around to change your denomination?

Forgive my bluntness, Arthur, but having Anglican beliefs is quite important if you want to get ahead in Britain’s political scene.

Neither the King nor the upper crust will trust a Catholic who swears allegiance to the Pope.

If you want to climb higher, sooner or later, you’ll have to consider it.”

Arthur didn’t agree or disagree.

He simply said, “Agares, I appreciate your advice, but the time is not yet ripe.”

“Hmm?

What do you mean by that?”

Arthur took a sip of tea, the warm liquid sliding down his throat bit by bit.

He smiled and said, “What I mean is, I have to see who in the end will place a bid on my faith.

Although everyone says faith is priceless, I am different; my faith has a clearly marked price.

By the way, Agares, your offer is currently the highest.”

Upon hearing this, Agares grinned, “Oh, is that so?

My dear Arthur, it’s an absolute honor to hear you say that.”

Arthur examined the attire of the clergymen and glanced at the officers and Director Rowan who were dutifully receiving them below, shaking his head, “There are even two bishops among them; it looks like Director Rowan will be busy today.”

No sooner had he finished speaking, he saw two neatly dressed young men alight from a carriage.

He recognized one of them well; naturally, it was his old friend, Mr.

Benjamin Disraeli.

As for the other young man, with a robust figure and dressed in a neat tailcoat, Arthur could guess from Disraeli’s disdainful expression that it was none other than Mr.

William Gladstone, the rising star of the Tory Party whom Disraeli considered a thorn in his side.

Disraeli, upon disembarking from the carriage, did not head straight for Scotland Yard, but instead looked around and joined in conversation with a familiar clergyman.

With the clergyman’s introduction, this Jewish young man who subscribed to the National Church soon became familiar with a few other priests.

From the smiles on their faces, it appeared the clergymen took a liking to this lively lad who had a way with words.

Although Gladstone wasn’t as eloquent as Disraeli, he clearly also knew people.

As an outstanding graduate of Oxford University and a devout believer in the National Church, Gladstone quickly found a few clerics from the Oxford University Parish.

Coincidentally, Arthur recognized a few of these Oxford clerics as well.

One was his old friend, the eccentric Oxford priest Mr.

John Newman.

As for the others, even though they did not know Arthur, he was intimately familiar with their information.

The reason was straightforward: last year, Sir Peel, as the Member of Parliament for the Oxford constituency, failed to keep his promise to Oxford University to block the Catholic Emancipation Act in the House of Commons.

Moreover, when Oxford University criticized the Cabinet’s policies, Sir Peel, once the pride of Oxford, in order to alleviate pressure for the Duke of Wellington, turned his guns back on Oxford, saying they should keep up with the times and not be slaves to their own vanity.

Because of this, Sir Peel was directly delisted from the Oxford University alumni registry.

Moreover, the Oxford clergy launched an anti-Robert Peel campaign.

They would arrange speeches and protest marches from time to time and would criticize Sir Peel whenever the opportunity arose.

At the time, Arthur was assigned by the Home Office and Scotland Yard to investigate and surveil this movement at Oxford University.

After observing for a while, Arthur submitted an investigation report to the Home Office, concluding that the Oxford clerics were just venting their restless tempers in trivial ways and there was no need for concern.

Indeed, Arthur’s assessment was proven correct.

Following the fall of the Tory Party, the anti-Robert Peel movement quickly fizzled out, and they shifted their focus to other matters.

Though the movement had ended, the leaders who initiated it were not forgotten by Arthur.

Apart from his old acquaintance, Mr.

Newman, a research fellow of Oriel College, Oxford University, and an Anglican Church priest, there were also eminent figures present at Scotland Yard today, such as Mr.

John Keble, the specially appointed Professor of Poetry at Oriel College, Oxford University and Anglican Church priest, and another heavyweight, Mr.

Edward Pusey, Regius Professor of Hebrew and Canon Law at Oriel College, Oxford University, and likewise an Anglican Church priest.

Arthur felt overwhelmed at the sight of these venerable individuals.

Although he didn’t mind having a chat with Mr.

Newman, if the other gentlemen were included, it would be a serious matter.

Perhaps Rowan, the head of the department, had taken into account the sensitivity of Arthur’s faith, so today he hadn’t arranged for Arthur to meet with these priests.

Instead, he allowed him to stay in the office and tinker with some trinkets he cared about.

Arthur casually copied a letter from the pile of correspondence on his desk, which was some official communication sent from the Foreign Office to Scotland Yard this morning.

But although it was official business, what was written inside was entirely personal.

Or to put it more bluntly, it contained resumes of some ladies of Polish descent.

Viscount Palmerston might not be a trustworthy friend, but one had to admit, he was very action-oriented in handling matters.

Since Arthur had made a suggestion to him last week, he had zealously recommended dozens of suitable candidates to the “British” editorial office and Arthur’s residence.

Arthur had just opened the letter when he saw a familiar name at the top of the page.

“Defina?”

Arthur leaned back in his chair and pondered for a moment; he remembered that the lady who was sent to lure Bernie Harrison into the trap seemed to have this name.

Before, Arthur had thought Defina’s Polish experiences were fabricated, since he had known Miss Fiona for so long and knew that in most cases, it was difficult to coax even half a truth from these ladies.

However, occasionally there were those like Defina who would slightly embellish their real-life experiences before coming out to do business.

Just as Arthur was thinking about whether to circle a name first, suddenly, there was a knock, knock, knock on the door.

“Come in.”

As soon as he spoke, Arthur saw Tom leading two people into the office.

As Tom approached, he vigorously signaled to Arthur with his eyes, under the other two’s lack of notice, and then said, “Sir, these two gentlemen are…”

Arthur simply smiled and set down the letter, “Mr.

Newman and I are old acquaintances already, and as for the gentleman beside him, I would guess that must be Mr.

William Gladstone, right?”

Gladstone was surprised that Arthur recognized him at once, “How did you know who I am?”

Arthur smiled and gestured for him to take a seat, then replied, “It’s quite simple; most of today’s visitors to Scotland Yard are priests.

Since you’re not wearing a monk’s robe, it means you’re not a priest, and there are only two visitors today who are not priests.

One is Mr.

Disraeli, and the other is you.

Mr.

Disraeli did not attend university, whereas you’re a distinguished graduate of Oxford University.

The only one who could appear alongside Oxford priest Mr.

Newman could only be Mr.

Gladstone.”

After hearing Arthur’s analysis, Gladstone couldn’t help but nod, “I have to say, your deductive skills are as miraculous as the newspapers claim.”

Newman also gave a gentle smile, “William, I’ve told you.

Mr.

Hastings is not like the average police officer; his abilities are outstanding, reflected not only in solving cases but also in public speaking.

More importantly, he possesses a heart that’s just and kind.”

Arthur, hearing Newman praise him incessantly, responded modestly, “Mr.

Newman, you flatter me, I’m merely doing my job.

If a police officer can’t even do these basic things—be just and kind, or capable of solving cases and reasoning—then what exactly is the point of having this department?”

With that, Arthur stood up and poured them a pot of tea, “But speaking of which, have you and Mr.

Gladstone come specially to visit me today to catch up, or is there something else?”

As soon as Arthur finished speaking, Newman took a newspaper from his breast pocket and spread it on the table.

Arthur glanced at it, and sure enough, it was the same report about the number of prostitutes and a series of exaggerated descriptions by the Bishop of Exeter.

Newman asked earnestly, “Arthur, I know you won’t lie to me.

For God’s sake and your devout faith, could you tell me how bad the situation in London has really gotten?”

Gladstone also added, “Mr.

Hastings, you might not know, but ever since I graduated from Oxford, I’ve been doing similar persuasive work on the streets of London for the past few months.

So… I hope you will adhere to the principle of fairness and not conceal anything in this regard.

I believe the current situation may be far worse than the official data from Scotland Yard.”

Hearing this, Arthur simply took a file from the cabinet behind him and passed it over, saying, “Mr.

Gladstone, there’s no need for Scotland Yard to lie about this matter.

I know things might be worse than we say.

However, we can only speak about what we’ve confirmed so far.

According to the requirements of the House of Lords and the clerical assembly, we’ve recently conducted another detailed investigation of the prostitutes within the city of London: 1,895 in brothels, 2,612 streetwalkers, and, of course, the main group are the ‘undercover’ prostitutes, of which we have confirmed 3,864.”

“Undercover prostitutes?” Gladstone was bewildered by this new term, “What are ‘undercover prostitutes’?”