shadow of britain

Chapter 606: The ‘Cold’ Military Police Colonel
If there is no evidence, then fabricate it. Everything is for the country, and the country is for power. Let lies become truth, and make the truth unworthy of mention.

——Artur Agaresovich Hestingov, "Hstingov's Stories: Monologues of a Petersburg Gendarmerie in the Dark"

Mayor Bakalkin pushed open the heavy oak door in a hurry, but was greeted not by the expected greeting but by a sharp rebuke.

"Can't you open the door more gently? The carpet has just been cleaned!"

The mayor's wife stood at the door of the living room, her hands on her hips, her face full of unmistakable anger.

She was wearing a well-dressed house dress, the tight neckline of which seemed to stifle her anger.

Bakalkin stopped helplessly, slowly pulled back the half-removed gloves, and muttered: "Stop arguing! I just came back from the City Hall. I have official business today. I came back to change clothes and go out right away..."

"Important?!" The lady interrupted him, with a hint of mockery in her voice: "Someone came to complain that the damn street was half-finished and then stopped again?"

"No!" Bakalkyn waved his hand impatiently: "This is a big deal - the imperial envoy sent by Petersburg has arrived, I have to rush to greet him!"

The lady was stunned, but her expression quickly changed from surprise to anger: "Welcome? Look at you, your shoes are covered in mud. Do you mean to let others see you in such a mess by your so-called 'welcome'?"

Before she finished speaking, the lady's angry face froze again. Her brows knitted tightly and her eyes rolled, as if she was pondering the weight of this sentence. The next second, the anger on her face turned into a rare anxiety and panic.

"Imperial envoy?" She almost shouted, with anxiety and shock in her tone: "Oh my God! Why didn't you tell me earlier! This concerns the reputation of the whole family!"

Before Bakaldin could reply, the lady was already spinning around the room like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, clutching the hem of her skirt with both hands, her voice rising an octave: "Varvara! Varvara! Come here! And Peter! Bring me the best dress at once - no, not the old one, but the new one, and the coat with gold buttons, quickly! At once!"

The servant Varvara rushed out of the kitchen, looking confused: "Madam, which dress?"

"It's the one that was sent from Moscow last month, but he hasn't had time to wear it yet! Good God, Peter, hurry up, don't dawdle! And the shoes, he needs boots that can be polished to the point of reflecting his reflection. Good God, why don't you hurry up!"

Bakalkyn looked at his coat in bewilderment. Although it was not dirty, it was indeed far from the "etiquette" that his wife expected. He waved his hands and tried to explain: "Didn't I just go home to change clothes? I have asked someone to iron my formal suit and the dress..."

"Dress?" The lady suddenly raised her voice. "You mean the one that got worn out last New Year? Don't tell me, you pig-head! You still want to wear that dress to meet the imperial envoy!"

The servant Peter poked his head out of the storeroom, holding a pile of messy clothes in his hands, and obviously didn't know which one to look for. He asked timidly: "Madam, is it the patterned coat you mentioned, or..."

"Shut up! I want the black one with silver thread!" The lady almost screamed, "Do you want the imperial envoy to think that we don't even have decent clothes at home? Go now!"

Bakalkin stood at the door, watching his wife roaring like a storm in the house, while Varvara and Peter frantically searched for clothes and shoes. He looked down at his muddy shoes, then raised his head and tried to interject: "Madam, in fact, the Imperial Envoy..."

"Shut up!" The lady turned around and pointed at his nose and shouted, "The only thing you have to do now is to stand there and don't move. Don't dirty the carpet! When the clothes are found, go wash up immediately and comb your hair. If the imperial envoy comes and sees you in such a slovenly state, the Bakalkins will lose face!"

She paused for a moment, panting, and then shouted to Varvara: "Remember to give him that black-edged tie. The imperial envoy is not a casual person!"

Varvara ran upstairs in response. The lady looked around while mumbling, and suddenly remembered something: "Table! Peter, go and wipe the table! And replace the candlesticks in the living room with new ones, all replaced with the silver-plated ones we brought back from Petersburg last time! Hurry!"

Bakalkin listened to his wife's endless instructions, his head gradually lowered, as if he wanted to disappear on the floor. However, he obviously failed to do so, and his wife's eyes turned to him again.

This scene is just like a canary being targeted by a falcon, except that the petite mayor's wife plays the role of the falcon, while the big and strong Bakalkkin becomes the canary.

"That's right!" The mayor's wife suddenly raised her voice: "Alexei! Don't be stupid this time! When you meet the imperial envoy, you must invite him home for dinner! It's God's blessing that such a noble man would look up to you, the mayor, in a small place like ours! Please come home for dinner, understand? Eat!"

Bakalkin nodded subconsciously and whispered, "Madam, I know, I originally planned to do so, but——"

"No buts!" The lady interrupted mercilessly: "This kind of occasion is not only for your personal face, but also for the honor of our whole family! If the imperial envoy is willing to sit at our table, the whole Druisk, no, the whole Vitebsk officialdom, your greedy superiors in the province will look at us differently, do you understand?"

Bakalkin sighed, "That... I thought so too, but the mountains have been blocked by heavy snow these days, and we can't get any high-quality ingredients at home. I don't know if the dishes made by our own chef will suit his taste."

"Food? You still worry about food?"

The lady rolled her eyes. "Hurry up and send someone with the cook to the market to search door to door. Even if we have to turn the market upside down, we must gather the freshest ingredients for the table. Oh, and there's also the "Nobleman's Cookbook" that I brought back from Moscow last year. It will come in handy just at this time. I bought that book before, and you glared at me, blaming me for spending money indiscriminately, but you don't know that I bought it just for times like this! You can be happy that you married a virtuous wife like me. I get so angry when I see you like that. Wearing that tattered coat, you look like a brown bear in the mountains from a distance. If you leave me for three days, you will definitely go back to live in the cave..."

Bakalkin was annoyed by his wife's incessant scolding. After all, he was a prominent figure in Druidsk, and even if his wife's family was a wealthy family in the provincial capital, he could not allow her to bully him like this.

Bakalkin raised his eyebrows: "Anna! Don't go too far!"

The mayor's wife glared with almond-shaped eyes: "What's wrong?"

Bakalkyn was so frightened by his wife's look that he almost lost his soul. He hunched his back and tried to make amends, "How can we entertain the imperial envoy with food but no wine? You should send a few people to find the merchant Korchukin and ask him to take out the best wine from the bottom of his box. I remember he has a few bottles of unopened Bordeaux."

"At least you have grown up."

The mayor's wife began to pace as she spoke, obviously planning every detail of a feast in her mind.

Suddenly, she stopped walking, turned around and stared at Bakardin, who was changing shoes and clothes with the help of servants, with a look of deep curiosity in her eyes.

"Alexei, what's the name of the imperial envoy? How old is he? What does he look like? How tall is he? Is he a very majestic man? And is he a colonel? Don't tell me you don't even know these!"

Bakaldin was stunned by the rapid-fire questions. He scratched his head and answered cautiously, "Madam, his last name is Hestingov, and his full name is... uh, Artur Agaresovich Hestingov. He is said to be an official of the Third Bureau, a genuine cavalry colonel, and a sixth-rank army senator. As for his appearance... I remember Zakharov said he was not short, with a well-proportioned figure, and his face... looked a bit bookish, I guess."

The lady frowned, obviously not satisfied with the evaluation of "bookish": "Bookish? Are you sure? The Imperial Envoy is not a university professor! Oh, God, if he looks thin and boring, how can we please him? We must entertain him well and leave the deepest impression on him. It would be best if he praises you like a saint when he returns to St. Petersburg."

As she spoke, she turned to Varvara and shouted, "Remember to put the best china on the dining table, the one with gold edges! And be sure to re-iron the curtains!"

The corners of Bakardin's mouth twitched. Thinking of what Zakharov had said before, he couldn't help but muttered softly: "Madam, I hope he won't remember me too deeply, so that I can sleep more peacefully..."

The lady immediately glared at him and said coldly: "Don't talk nonsense, Alexei! You are a loser. This is a rare opportunity. Just do what I tell you to do and don't mess it up!"

A burst of brisk footsteps came from upstairs, and Marina, the mayor's daughter, walked downstairs with her skirt dragging. She was tidying up her fluffy curly hair while walking downstairs, and it was obvious that she had just woken up.

"Mother, I heard from Varvara that we are going to entertain the imperial envoy, right?"

The mayor's wife immediately turned around, and a loving smile instantly appeared on her slightly angry face: "That's right, Marina, you have to hurry up and prepare well, and pick out the most decent clothes to meet the guests."

Marina's eyes lit up, and she asked excitedly, "Can I wear that blue silk skirt? It's the one I brought back from Moscow last year. I think it's perfect for an occasion like this!"

Hearing this, the lady's smile froze slightly. The blue silk dress was indeed dazzling, but she was going to wear it herself, in order to show off her elegance as the first lady of Druisk in front of the imperial envoy.

She rolled her eyes and immediately changed to a gentle persuasive tone: "Oh, Marina, that dress is of course beautiful, but you know, blue is too cold and does not suit your age. The imperial envoy is the emperor's special envoy, and he pays the most attention to the first impression when judging people. Wouldn't it be better for you to wear that light yellow dress? It makes you look young and energetic, and it matches your temperament perfectly!"

"But I don't like yellow, that skirt is too plain!" Marina frowned, obviously not wanting to compromise easily.

"Oh, child, you don't know how to behave in social occasions!" The lady smiled and put her arm around Marina's shoulders, but her tone was a little tough: "Listen to your mother, yellow will only bring out your fair skin and make you look well-educated. Blue is too picky. If you don't wear it well, you will look tacky. How can you leave a good impression on the imperial envoy?"

"But..." Marina wanted to argue, but the lady didn't give her a chance and continued, "Be obedient, Mom is doing this for your own good! Besides, the waistline of the blue silk skirt is too high, it's not suitable for your petite figure. A yellow skirt is most suitable!"

Marina hesitated, looked down at her fingers, and muttered, "Okay then...but I really like the blue one."

The mayor's wife immediately smiled with satisfaction and clapped her hands: "Mom knows you are obedient! Varvara, iron that yellow skirt and send it to the young lady!"

The fight between mother and daughter had just subsided, and Bakalkin, who was standing aside, had already become impatient.

He took the sword from the servant, put on his calfskin boots and was about to go out: "We can talk about it later if there is anything. The militiamen from various villages should have arrived by now. I have to lead them to meet the imperial envoy."

"Go quickly! Remember to be careful with your words. If the Imperial Envoy needs anything, send someone back to inform me immediately."

Bakalkin ran out as if fleeing from his fate, shouting the groom's name: "Alsip! Where is my custom-made carriage? Pull it out quickly! This carriage is the face of the entire Druidsk. I, the lord, must not let the imperial envoy look down on me!"

The groom, Alsip, was busy giving water to the horses. When he heard the mayor's call, he immediately responded, put down his tools and ran to the garage. Bakalkin was anxious and hurriedly followed him.

"Hurry up, Alsip, don't dawdle! The imperial envoy won't wait for anyone!"

Bakaldin urged, his brows furrowed, and he was obviously a little out of control in his anxiety.

Soon, the coachman came out with an unusually large four-wheeled carriage. Alsip waved the whip and boasted, "Don't worry, sir. Look at this beautiful new carriage. It takes 15 poods of iron alone. Even the Orthodox Christians would be stunned by this carriage, and the Germans would be scared to death."

Bakalkyn jumped forward eagerly, but because of his belly, he couldn't climb up immediately. Every time he tried to lift his legs, his belly would be pressed tightly, and his movements became more and more clumsy.

Seeing how hard the master was climbing, the coachman immediately jumped off the carriage and asked, "Shall I get you a stool?"

"No need!"

Bakalkin was panting, an impatient look on his face, he held onto the carriage while struggling to squeeze himself in.

With a slight creaking sound, he finally climbed into the carriage with great effort and fell into the seat, panting.

Alsip was still frantically waving his whip beside him, muttering, "Your stomach is really--"

"Shut up! Stop talking!" Bakalkin shouted angrily, interrupting the groom's idle chatter. "Your mouth is getting more and more unpleasant!"

He was furious, but when he saw the imperial envoy was about to arrive, he suppressed his anger and forced himself to adjust his sitting position.

"Drive quickly! Don't dawdle!" Bakalkin shouted anxiously in the car, holding the frame tightly with both hands, as if ready to fall off the seat at any time.

Alsip paused for a moment, looked at Bakalkin's condition, and obviously didn't dare to say anything more. He whispered, "Yes, sir, let's go immediately!"

……

However, when the mayor rushed to the hotel.

The imperial envoy, who made him both frightened and terrified, had already been reached by someone else.

The chief of police, Mr. Ivan Mikhailovich Skolnikov, whom all the city officials had tried so hard to find, was standing respectfully beside Arthur.

His cheap father-in-law, the retired eighth-rank civil servant and old country gentleman Grigory Nikiforovich Zakharov, did not rush to the town hall immediately after he concluded that Arthur was the imperial envoy. Instead, he strolled all the way to the police station and woke his drunk son-in-law up by grabbing his ear.

As for what he said to his son-in-law, it was naturally the same high-sounding talk as in the city hall, even more serious and urgent.

After years of ups and downs in officialdom, the old country gentleman knows the importance of being the first to offer warmth.

The reason he was able to become an eighth-rank civil servant and help his son-in-law get the position of Druisk police chief was because he had formed a life-long friendship with his old friend who is now the secretary of the Vitebsk police chief when he was serving in the Caucasus?

On the one hand, the old squire went to the town hall to hold back the group of ruffians he despised, and on the other hand, he sent his son-in-law home to wash up and get rid of the smell of alcohol, and change into his most distinctive clothes to meet Colonel Hastingoff.

"Colonel Hastingoff, you've worked hard on the journey." The police chief said in an almost flattering tone, with a bit of humility and respect between his brows, as if he had forgotten that he was the police chief. Now he was more like those small vendors who usually fawned on him: "Our small hotel in Druisk has a simple environment, but if there is any inconvenience, please let me know and I will do my best to arrange it for you."

Arthur did not respond immediately. Instead, he remained silent for a moment before whispering, "Inconvenience? What inconvenience is there? I've been living here for five days."

When the police chief heard this, he immediately broke out in a sweat and beads of sweat quickly appeared on his forehead.

"I'm so sorry, Colonel. I didn't know you'd lived here so long..."

He paused, as if searching for words that could save the situation: "I thought you had just arrived. After all, the conditions here are really limited. If there is anything wrong, please let me know and I will make arrangements immediately."

Arthur slowly raised his head and raised the corners of his mouth slightly: "Is it wrong?"

His words seemed colder than the north wind on a snowy day. "Although this place is simple, it is also quite quiet. I am a little curious. As the chief of police, you don't even know that I have lived here for a long time? Is it that my travel document does not clearly state my name, or do you not know the words "St. Petersburg" and "professional civil servant"? "

The police chief's face turned even paler in an instant, and he suddenly remembered his father-in-law's warning to him - Lord Hastingoff was not easy to deal with.

The police chief smiled reluctantly. "Colonel, Druisk is not a big place, but there are still many things to deal with, and my attention has been somewhat distracted. As you know, there are many responsibilities in the local area, and it is inevitable to be negligent occasionally."

"You are really busy, Mr. Chief." Arthur turned his head and shouted to the small shop owner, "I heard that you have smoked salmon that harms liberal ideas? Cuff them one by one. I will find out who is the leader among them today!"

The young shop owner was obviously frightened by this sentence. His eyes widened and his face was bitter. For a moment he didn't know how to respond.

Other people in the store also stopped what they were doing, and the air was filled with a tense atmosphere.

The police chief stood there at a loss, not even knowing where to put his hands.

"Look, Mr. Chief." Arthur turned around slowly, his tone still a little cold: "I didn't ask to interrogate you, but judging from your expression, you seem to be hiding something. Speaking of which, you seem to be a little bit drunk today. I wonder if you encountered any 'problems' during the 'investigation'?"

"Colonel..." Skolnikov swallowed, his voice trembling: "I...I was really busy with work. Last night...last night..."

Arthur raised his eyebrows slightly and interrupted him: "You drank too much last night and don't remember what you did, right?"

The director's face froze. He obviously didn't expect Arthur to point out the problem so directly.

At this point he was in complete trouble, and any explanation he gave seemed futile.

At this moment, Arthur's cold eyes fell on him again.

"However, since you are so 'busy', I don't want to embarrass you any more." Arthur suddenly changed his tone and smiled faintly: "I just want to know, what kind of help can the Chief of Police of Druisk provide? For example, can you guarantee the order here? If I want to investigate the situation in some places, will you do anything behind the scenes?"

Skolnikov felt that Arthur's eyes were like a needle, piercing his heart. As a man with many years of officialdom, he knew that the meaning of the imperial envoy in front of him was far more than the literal meaning.

He forced himself to calm down and put on a respectful attitude. "Colonel, don't worry. I, Skolnikov, will fully cooperate with you. I assure you that there will be no problem with the order of Druisk."

"very good!"

Arthur slapped the police chief on the shoulder. Although his force was not strong, it made the burly man tremble all over.

Arthur smiled and turned to the table beside him: "Then I will trust you for once."

He turned to the shop owner and said, "You'd better provide some other 'useful' information. For example, is there any place nearby where a military police colonel can satisfy his urge to 'interrogate' or 'inspect'?"

The shopkeeper did not hesitate and immediately lowered his head and whispered: "Colonel, there are several shops nearby that are worth visiting. If you want to relax, I can show you the way. As for the liberal smoked salmon..."

He paused, his eyes flickering. He didn't dare to point it out in front of the police chief: "That's just one of our little features. There's no other meaning."

Arthur chuckled, not seeming to mind these little episodes, and looked at Skolnikov: "Look, Mr. Director, even the store owner knows how to express it 'correctly'. What about you, what 'specialties' can you provide me with?"

When the police chief heard this, he finally understood.

His pounding heart finally slowed down and he wanted to slap himself. He had misunderstood Colonel Hastingoff's meaning from the beginning.

He still thought that the colonel was a tough guy who would not listen to anyone.

did not expect……

The colonel is actually quite easy to get along with!
(End of this chapter)