The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 495 - 495 264 Rothschild's Gambling Table 8K4_4

495: Chapter 264: Rothschild’s Gambling Table (8K4)_4 495: Chapter 264: Rothschild’s Gambling Table (8K4)_4 Arthur had no idea how those two idiots had crossed the Foreign Secretary, and after some thought, he decided it was better to feel his way through this delicate situation first.

Arthur, pointing regretfully to his bandaged arm, said, “I’m sorry, Your Excellency, under normal circumstances, I would definitely have been able to apprehend those two criminals.

But I’ve been injured today and really don’t have the strength.

I apologize for not being able to do my utmost.”

Upon seeing Arthur’s injured arm, Palmerston slapped his forehead and exclaimed, “Oh, how could I have forgotten about this?

Indeed, you cannot be blamed, you did take a bullet directly from Bertrand.

The fact that you’re up and walking is a testament to your strength, how could I fault you for not capturing those two scoundrels?

Come to think of it, how is your wound anyway?”

Arthur chuckled softly, “The doctor has removed the bullet and treated the wound, so aside from a bit of pain, it’s nothing serious.

By the way, Your Excellency, although I’m unable to apprehend the criminals for you, combating crime is still my duty.

Since you’re here, why not explain the case to me now and save yourself a trip to Scotland Yard tomorrow.”

Palmeston hesitated, feigning concern, “This…

might not be a good idea…”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Arthur said, also feigning endurance to the pain while taking out paper and pen from his inner pocket, “Just make it as brief as possible.”

Seeing his insistence, Palmerston no longer tried to dissuade him.

“Don’t worry, the case itself is not that complicated.

I was enjoying tonight’s show in the box when suddenly, there was the sound of the door being kicked open from behind.

I turned around and saw, to my surprise, it was the same two men who had just fled,” he explained.

“I thought they might have entered the wrong room, and I was about to kindly remind them when one of the men in the purple tailcoat began to shout insults at my companion, calling her, ‘You dirty whore, a despicable prostitute!

I knew you’d be up to no good!’

As you know, a brave gentleman can never allow such insults to himself, and certainly cannot tolerate his companion being slandered as a prostitute, which is why I pursued them without a second thought.”

Upon hearing this, Arthur stroked his chin in thought for a moment.

He seemed to have grasped the entirety of the situation.

“Talent” was no longer a suitable word to describe Norton and Harrison.

This was sheer genius.

He had clearly given Harrison the correct room number, yet they managed to kick the wrong door?

In that instant, Arthur felt the situation was somewhat tricky.

After all, if he truly apprehended Norton for this, Norton would definitely out Harrison.

If Harrison was outed, given his character, he would likely drag Arthur into this at court.

To avoid blowing the situation out of proportion, Arthur had to find another way to make Palmerston retreat from the matter.

Arthur began by inquiring, “Did you manage to get a good look at the appearance of the culprits?”

Palmeston shook his head, “The situation was urgent, and the room’s lighting was dim, so at best, I could only identify their clothing.

I was not able to make out their faces.”

Red Devil smirked and swung its tail as it sat on the banister, “Then that makes things easier.”

Arthur, feigning thorough investigation, said, “Your Excellency, from what you’ve described, this type of situation is actually quite common in the East End of London.

Based on my preliminary analysis, this might be a case of a swindle by a gang using prostitutes…

what’s known as the badger game.

Of course, a cultivated gentleman of your distinction is unlikely to be familiar with such a ruse, nor do you need to be.

But I must implore you for permission to bring your companion back to the station for questioning, as she may very well be involved in this crime.”

“My companion?” Palmeston started to think about withdrawing his complaint upon hearing that Arthur intended to take Lady Livon away.

Being barged in on at the Astley Theatre’s box was embarrassing enough, but if Scotland Yard brought Lady Livon, the wife of the Russian ambassador, in for questioning, it was almost certain that this would be on the front page of The Times tomorrow.

The scandal of Bernie Harrison’s solicitation incident had barely died down, and if news of the Foreign Secretary luring a married woman broke now, Londoners would have a month’s worth of gossip over their tea.

Palmeston was never quite the devout religious figure that Bernie Harrison pretended to be.

In fact, since his involvement in politics, he had always presented himself as a playboy.

But to so brazenly land in the headlines with the wife of a foreign envoy was indeed a bit too audacious.

Combining that with the typical conduct of Fleet Street’s reporters, who loved sensational news, Palmeston could even imagine the kind of headlines that would appear on his office desk the next day:

“The Hero’s Achilles’ Heel?

This is Viscount Palmerston’s ‘Gunboat’ Diplomacy!”

“Is St.

Petersburg continuing to exert filthy influence over Britain’s foreign policy?”

“Poland or Russia?

Bernie Harrison and Viscount Palmeston Offer Differing Explanations”

“I am gravely concerned about the traitorous tendencies that have emerged among politicians recently”

“Maybe it’s time to investigate others in Parliament too!”

“The only piece of good news in recent foreign affairs: Arthur Hastings won last night’s duel against Francois Bertrand”

The very thought of this made Palmeston break into a cold sweat.

He laughed and waved his hand, saying, “Never mind, upon further consideration, this was just an unfortunate incident on a beautiful evening.

The officers have worked so hard tonight; I shouldn’t cause any more trouble.

I have always committed myself to serving all of Britain, and that naturally includes the police of Scotland Yard.

Isn’t that right, Inspector Hastings?”