The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 494 - 494 264 Rothschild's Gambling Table 8K4_3

494: Chapter 264: Rothschild’s Gambling Table (8K4)_3 494: Chapter 264: Rothschild’s Gambling Table (8K4)_3 Lionel asked, “How should I put it?”

Arthur began, “The officers on Kingsland Road not only completed their daily tasks but also often volunteered for jobs that aren’t technically theirs.

For instance, they used the medical knowledge from their police training to administer simple first aid when doctors couldn’t be present.

Or they would intervene in domestic violence cases, stopping husbands from beating wives and parents from abusing children, even though this wasn’t required by law or Scotland Yard regulations.”

As I mentioned before, most of the residents in Old Nicol haven’t had much education and their incomes are quite unstable, so many rely on alcohol to get through their days.

Parents in a state of drunkenness aren’t capable of fulfilling their guardianship duties, and frankly, they seldom fulfill them even when sober.

As a result, children often get lost among the district’s thirty-plus streets.

Now, the local kids have almost all learned to ask police for help when they’re lost, and residents frequently call the police to pick up these little rascals.”

Perhaps because such cases happen so frequently, the Kingsland Road station has even added some toys to keep these kids quiet; they’ve also allocated specific funds for buying jam and bread for these thirsty and hungry tots.

In this regard, they’re probably the best in London.

Apart from a few scoundrels, the rest of the Kingsland Road officers truly deserve their uniforms and their conduct is respectable.

They are invaluable treasures in this district often plagued with despair and trouble.”

Lionel said with a smile, “Thank you for sharing so much.

Arthur, based on what you’ve just said, it feels like my taxes haven’t been wasted.”

Arthur thought for a moment and added with a touch-up, “I can only say, part of the taxes indeed haven’t been wasted.”

Lionel, still smiling, said, “Talking with you is always a pleasure.

But it’s getting late, perhaps it’s time we made our way to the third floor to see His Majesty the King.

While your performance still has room for improvement, it has been quite successful overall—at least His Majesty seemed very pleased, and I think that’s enough, don’t you?”

As Arthur walked, he asked, “Did the Angelo brothers say anything?”

Lionel, with one hand on the doorknob, replied, “They did sense something was off, but given that you used their swordfighting techniques, the masters didn’t fuss too much.

After all, they understand that it was just a show, not a real battlefield.

If they really wanted to see you brawl with someone, they should have been at the streets of Greenwich, and your opponents wouldn’t be Paris Sword Saint Bertrand, but groups of thugs armed with crowbars and clubs.”

Arthur said with a laugh, “Lionel, you sure know your stuff.

Maybe one day if you get tired of making money, you could consider giving Scotland Yard a try.”

Lionel burst out laughing and opened the door, “I’d rather not.

I’m no match for street thugs.”

As Arthur and Lionel were chatting, suddenly, they heard a rapid thumping of feet descending the stairs, followed soon after by a furious roar, “You two scoundrels, don’t run!

Guard!

Catch those two bastards!”

Upon hearing this, Arthur instinctively raised his hand to draw his police baton, but just as he grasped the handle, the tight sensation from the bandage made him involuntarily loosen his grip.

While hesitating whether to intervene, he suddenly saw two shadows darting upstairs.

Judge Norton took the lead, charging past Arthur and Lionel, carving out a path through the crowd.

Close behind him, Bernie Harrison, upon seeing Arthur, paused for a moment before awkwardly and politely tipping his hat with a smile, “Good evening, Mr.

Hastings.

Sorry about the mess tonight, it seems things went a bit awry.”

Without waiting for Arthur’s response, Harrison also dashed down, hat in hand.

His figure had barely vanished when four or five sturdy gentlemen in tidy tailcoats rushed downstairs; they were the valets of Viscount Palmerston and Lady Lewin.

As their masters had wanted to create a more private and hidden space for themselves, these servants had previously tactfully gone to the public balcony to chat and smoke.

Had it not been for this, with their agile skills, they wouldn’t have let Norton and Harrison gain such a lead.

Upon seeing Lionel and Arthur blocking the hallway, the valets quickly asked, “Gentlemen, did you see two nefarious individuals escape from here just now?”

Arthur nodded slightly and nonchalantly pointed towards the window as he excused himself, “You might be too late to chase them now.

I just saw from the window ledge, they’ve already fled in a carriage, taken away by someone.

It must be an organized criminal gang.

It’s not unusual for such things to happen in the theater; the people you encountered today are probably not first-timers at this kind of thing, they knew exactly how to escape.”

As Arthur was speaking, suddenly, he looked up and saw an angry man walking down the stairs.

The man, while walking, was smoothing out his slightly wrinkled coat; it was Viscount Palmeston.

Upon seeing Arthur, Palmeston’s anger faded away and he asked with a delighted face, “Oh, Mr.

Hastings, with you here, surely those two impudent fellows have been caught, haven’t they?”