shadow of britain

Chapter 661 Who is this? General Hastings!

The madam hoped that the police would be on her side. She screamed and naggled endlessly, but her shrill voice was really annoying to hear.

The tavern owner didn't look like an easy person to deal with. Although he didn't talk as much as the brothel owner, it was clear from the dagger that fell from his waist that he was not a good person either.

But don't forget where you are, in the police station, if you are a dragon you have to coil up, if you are a tiger you have to hide in its den.

"A dog howls when it's too full!" The police officer holding the pen snorted coldly, "You bastards, you don't stay at home honestly. As soon as we relax, you mess around. You old woman, look, this is not a big deal! You have to find your superiors every time you have a quarrel, and make your superiors restless. How can this be acceptable? Besides, who the hell are you? This is not the first time. What can I say? You go to the police station for no reason. Why don't you take a piss and look at yourself to see what you do for a living!"

The tavern owner shook his head and shrugged his shoulders to show that he was very satisfied.

But what he didn't expect was that the police officer immediately turned around and attacked him: "You dog, what are you yelling about after jumping out of the counter? Do you want to go to Siberia? You are talking so dirty and you want to hit someone. I think you are itching for a beating, do you want to be whipped?"

As soon as the police got angry, the tavern owner who had been so majestic just now immediately became silent. He was so scared that he shrank his head like a little chicken and couldn't utter a word.

But the old madam didn't care about that. The women who were in charge of brothels had all developed sharp tongues, and they were good at throwing tantrums and making unreasonable arguments. Even if it was a police station, she would make sure there was no peace.

The madam and the officer continued to quarrel until the chief of police came into the room.

As soon as the director entered the room and saw this situation, he didn't know right from wrong, and didn't ask who was right or wrong. He just started to curse: "Get out, all of you! Do you think this is a bathhouse?"

After finally getting rid of the bastards who disturbed the peace of the police station, the director immediately called the police officer in charge to his front and scolded him: "How can you let these guys make a scene here? How many times have I told you not to forget that you are a policeman! Do you usually use this uniform and stick given to you by the emperor to pick up cow dung? How can you let these unruly people make trouble and make the police station a mess?"

The police chief was reprimanding his subordinates when he suddenly caught a glimpse of a gentleman in a top hat and a well-fitting tuxedo walking into the police station.

He caught a glimpse of the gold watch chain in Arthur's coat pocket, slowly calmed down his angry expression, and turned to ask the stranger, "Are you here to report a crime?"

Arthur took out his pocket watch and checked the time. He then stepped back and looked at the police station gate and asked, "Is this Colonel Miller's jurisdiction?"

"You're looking for the chief?" The police chief smiled and pulled out an office chair for Arthur. "Please sit here for a while. The chief has a meeting at nine this morning. It will probably take him a while to get to the station."

Arthur thanked him, sat on a chair, took out his pipe, and put tobacco in it while muttering, "I used to hear people say that Russians are much more simple than British people, and I thought the work here must be easier than in London. But there's so much noise so early in the morning, it seems that the police work in Moscow is not much easier than in London."

"Are you from London?" The director asked his men to make some punch for the guest to warm him up. "Are you traveling?"

"I guess so. I work at the British Embassy in St. Petersburg and I'm on vacation recently. I thought there was nowhere else to go, so I came to Moscow to have a look."

Arthur took out a snuff bottle from his pocket and threw it to the commissioner, signaling him to have some. "Well, we are actually in the same line of work. When I was in London, I was also a policeman."

"You are a policeman too?" The commissioner moved a chair and sat down next to Arthur. "What were you mainly responsible for when you were in London?"

Arthur held his pipe in his mouth and counted on his fingers, "My responsibilities are quite diverse, including training elite police officers, criminal investigation, revision of internal regulations... Oh, and most importantly, monitoring the activities of anti-government elements."

"So much work?" The director was stunned. "What is your specific position there?"

Arthur blew out a puff of smoke. "Assistant Commissioner of Police of the Metropolitan Police."

"Assistant...Assistant Police Commissioner!" The Commissioner was stunned: "Which chair do you usually sit in during meetings?"

"The third one." Arthur took off his gloves and waved his hands. "But that's all in the past. A hero doesn't brag about his past achievements. I'm just a small errand boy in the embassy now. My position is not as important as yours in the Moscow Police Department."

How could the director dare to take Arthur's words seriously? He subconsciously stood up and saluted, "General, you..."

Arthur pressed his palm down to signal him to sit down. "What's the matter with being a general or not? Britain is different from you in Russia. No general in Britain works as a policeman."

The director felt a little relieved after hearing this: "What's your name?"

"Arthur Hastings."

"Ah!" When the director heard the name, his buttocks that had just touched the chair immediately rose up again: "It turns out to be you!"

Nowadays, who among those with a certain status in Moscow doesn’t know the name of Arthur Hastings?
The dukes and earls all said that he was a very learned British electromagnetic scientist and diplomat.

He studied under Jeremy Bentham, a great British scholar and pioneer of utilitarianism, and under Michael Faraday, the most talented scientist in the Royal Society.

In philosophy and natural philosophy he may be said to be:
He inherited Isaac Newton and pioneered natural philosophy.

He inspired the students in Göttingen to explore the great principles of the electromagnetic era.

Moreover, he not only made great achievements in philosophy and natural philosophy, but his every move also reflected his good upbringing and knowledge.

All the ladies and young ladies vied with each other to invite him to their homes. After all, they had learned about this outstanding pianist who was highly sought after by Heine from Paris newspapers a year ago.

Although he only has one work, in Heine's words, even with just this one piece, "The Bells", Arthur Hastings is enough to become one of the top figures in the European piano world.

As for Liszt, this second-rate guy...

Ah!
Nothing more than Arthur Hastings II!
No matter how hard a person without talent tries or how many songs he produces, it can never compare to the flash of inspiration of a genius.

If Heine was the only one praising Hastings' talent, it might be considered an isolated case.

However, even great European pianists such as Chopin and Mendelssohn praised Hastings' musical talent.

Although Arthur thinks he has no musical talent and doesn't like to brag about his music.

But the literary and artistic circle is just a circle!

I don’t have much creative ability, and my playing skills are not that rich, but I’m very popular!
In the literary and art criticism circle, Heine promoted him.

In the literary and artistic circle, Chopin and Mendelssohn endorsed him.

In the performing arts circle, Mr. Nouri, the chief tenor of the Paris Opera, could not bear to speak ill of the jazz because Garibaldi and others had been transferred smoothly. With this lineup of relatives and friends, let alone Arthur Hastings playing the piano, even if you put a monkey in front of the piano, the audience would still be willing to pay for tickets to see what was going on.

After all, the sight of a monkey playing the piano is, if nothing else, at least quite curious.

Although Arthur repeatedly emphasized to the ladies that his talent was not even a fraction of Liszt's, no one believed him and they just thought it was just a personal modesty.

Moreover, these romantic and delicate ladies also noticed the melancholy in Arthur's eyes, but unfortunately they misunderstood.

There are many factors that cause depression. Some are due to nature, some are due to emotional injuries, some are due to talents not being understood, and some are due to the fear of being sent to work as clerks in colonial institutions in India, Australia or Canada.

But no matter what the reason, at least from the outside, Sir Arthur Hastings was indeed a perfect and impeccable genius.

Such a virtuous person actually works part-time as a police officer in his spare time from studying electromagnetism and music. The director could not help but respect him.

Can a genius do such a humble job?
The director did not look down on his job. The police officers were certainly noble and well-educated gentlemen, but the people they had to deal with every day were a group of unspeakably vulgar and unruly people.

Arthur picked up the Police Regulations on the table, flipped through a few pages, and then smiled with his eyes narrowed: "Sergei Nikolayevich has stolen all my treasures."

"Who? Who are you talking about?"

"Ah?" Arthur pretended to be casual and said, "Colonel Shubinsky, do you know him?"

"You mean Shubinsky, the Moscow gendarme?"

"Yes, that's him." Arthur raised his hand and pointed at a few lines on the Police Regulations. "You know Shubinsky used to work in the London Embassy, ​​right? Before he was transferred back to Moscow from London, he borrowed a few police manuals from me. I asked him what he was going to do with them, and he said to me: 'Brother, I'm going to help you recruit some apprentices in Russia.'"

When the police chief heard this, he immediately remembered the suggestions for improving the Russian police system submitted by the Third Bureau two years ago.

After the Tsar reviewed the report, he asked the Ministry of Internal Affairs to revise Russia's Police Regulations based on the opinions of the Third Bureau. The contents that Arthur pointed out were added after that large-scale revision.

The director became more respectful to Arthur: "Oh, old man... this is really... I didn't expect that I would run into the Grandmaster today."

Arthur smiled and asked him: "Have you strictly followed these regulations?"

"Of course we have to execute it, but…" The director turned to Arthur and complained about his difficulties: "But you also know that regulations are regulations. If it comes to actual implementation, there will always be situations that conflict with the regulations. Especially in Russia, at such times, the regulations have to give way to human feelings."

Arthur asked curiously, "What are you talking about? I think these regulations are fairly formulated. For example, reasons should be given for extended detention, and for example..."

"Of course, your regulations are well written. Even if Dante or Shakespeare were asked to write them, they might not be as good as you." The director sighed and said, "But, let me give you an example. It's like the series of cases we have handled recently. Have you heard that we and the military police have arrested a lot of people recently?"

Arthur stroked his chin and said, "I heard about this. They said a lot of young people were arrested."

The director raised his hand and pointed his thumb at the director's office: "There's a prisoner in this office, a kid from the Yakovlev family."

"Oh?" Arthur asked, "What exactly did he do wrong?"

The director sneered: "I can't say for sure what he has done wrong, but the instructions from above are to arrest him first, and we will investigate further to find out what he has done wrong."

"But this is against the rules!"

"That's right, it's against the rules." The director patiently explained to Arthur, "This is where I said the rules must give way to favors. May I ask, when was the last time you came to Moscow?"

"It's been about a month, hasn't it?" Arthur counted the days on his fingers. "The last time I was here was during Carnival."

The director sighed and said, "It's a good thing you didn't stay in Moscow, otherwise you would have been very upset by the fires."

"What fire?"

"It was a fire, an arson. There have been sporadic fires in Moscow since Maslenitsa. And during Lent, there were fires almost every day, and each fire was bigger than the last. The worst one almost destroyed half of Arbat Street. This situation really annoyed us, and we couldn't catch anyone. Prince Golitsyn first scolded the police chief Ziensky, and then wrote a report on the fire and sent it to St. Petersburg. The emperor was very angry about this series of fires and ordered a thorough investigation, and not a single murderer should be let off."

"The fire is indeed serious. I saw black smoke coming out of Neglinnaya Street yesterday. I think there must be a fire." Arthur pretended to think: "But what does this have to do with arresting young people? I don't rule out the possibility that young people like to do ridiculous things, but if we arrest every young person we see, the scope of the crackdown is too wide."

"Well, of course we can't arrest all the young people in the city." The police chief sighed, "It all started with an arsonist we caught last week. The villain was quite tough when he first arrived at the police station, but we used a little trick on him and he couldn't stand it immediately. He confessed that he set the fire because he was dissatisfied with the closure of the Moscow Telegraph..."

Arthur suddenly realized what was going on when he heard this: "You mean, he's a liberal? All the people arrested recently are young people who are suspected of having liberal tendencies?"

The director gave Arthur a thumbs up and said, "You are worthy of being the third-in-command in the London police. You saw the crux of the problem at a glance. To be honest, the emperor also suspected this. And the rumor in the bureau is that the emperor and Count Benckendorff regard the continuous fires in Moscow as provocations and demonstrations by liberal elements. If they are not severely punished, it may lead to disaster in the end."

When Arthur heard this, he immediately realized that the problem was more difficult than he had imagined.

If this case was merely because the military police commander Volkov was looking for a stepping stone for promotion, then the person could be rescued as long as Volkov was dealt with.

As for how to deal with Volkov, there are actually many ways.

Either find something to hold against him, or use the help of authoritative figures in St. Petersburg to put pressure on him. If that doesn't work, you can go directly to the gendarmerie headquarters and communicate with him face to face.

After all, he was just looking for a stepping stone, and it didn't matter whether the stepping stone was called Herzen, Gogol or Pushkin.

But according to the information revealed to him by the police chief, the level of this case has risen to a level that Volkov cannot decide alone.

The establishment or failure of a case not only needs to be reviewed by the Moscow Trial Committee, but will most likely also require the final decision from the Winter Palace.

Who can put pressure on the Tsar?
Who can force him to give in?
Who can bribe him?
Even the British Embassy's backer, His Majesty's Government, could not do this.

Because they had just proved, together with other governments, that even if Britain and France joined forces to put pressure on Austria, and Austria expressed its dissatisfaction in a subtle way, they could not force the Tsar to abandon the secret agreement he signed with the Ottomans.

In order not to anger the Tsar, Arthur even worked secretly for more than a month, just to prevent the most irritable person in Russia from discovering Sir David Urquhart's secret entry into the Caucasus.

What should we do?
(End of this chapter)