Shadow of great britain

36 Lancaster Gate, Bayswater, London.

Night has come, the sky is full of stars outside the window, and the lights are brightly lit inside the window.

There was a rectangular milky white dining table in the large dining room. Darwin and Elder sat on the mahogany chairs on both sides of the dining table, while Arthur sat on the main seat and flipped through a book.

He muttered: "Benjamin Disraeli, could he be the Mr. Disraeli who created "Vivian Grey"?"

Elder's face was buried in a newly released "Secret News from the Boudoir." He asked while reading: "What? Is he famous?"

Darwin, who was concentrating on studying the Natural History Magazine, heard this and said: "When Arthur said this, I remembered that there seemed to be such a big figure in the British literary world in recent years. It's just Mr. Disraeli's reputation. It doesn’t seem to be a good thing. In the past few years, I could see attacks on him in various literary magazines every now and then.”

"Attack?" Elder's face slowly emerged from the newspaper: "What did he do? Extramarital affair? Illegitimate child? Or some other dirty relationship between a man and a woman?"

Arthur glanced at him: "The areas you mentioned are precisely the areas where literature and artists are most vulnerable to attack. Do you remember the Paganini we saw at the Royal Theater before? That guy was romantic, and his biggest His hobby is to sell money in romantic places all over Europe, but fans are too lazy to care about this kind of thing, and even praise him for being romantic and affectionate."

When Arthur said this, Alexandre Dumas, who was happily cooking in the kitchen, suddenly became excited.

Fortunately, no one else noticed anything was wrong with him. Elder continued to ask: "What did Disraeli commit?"

Arthur picked up the "Vivian Gray" in front of him and showed its cover in front of Elder.

Elder glanced at it and found that the name of the author of this book was clearly written: Anonymous.

Elder scratched his head: "Is there something wrong with this Disraeli's brain? He finally wrote a book and is still anonymous. Doesn't he plan to ask for royalties?"

Arthur said: "This is the crux of the matter. Mr. Disraeli's original intention in writing this book was not to make money at all, but to attack an old friend of his in the publishing industry.

It is already shameful to backstab a friend when writing a book, but Mr. Disraeli's behavior of wearing a vest to satirize others is intolerable in the literary and publishing circles.

So when his true identity was revealed, he immediately became infamous in the field of British literary creation. Since then, it seems that he has not published new works for a long time.

At first I thought he might have immigrated abroad because he was too embarrassed to see anyone. Now it seems that Mr. Disraeli should just avoid the limelight and wait until the outside world calms down before he starts troubles again. "

As soon as Arthur finished speaking, Alexandre Dumas wearing a white apron brought several plates of fragrant rice and placed them on the table in front of everyone.

Arthur looked at the shiny yellow rice grains with clear grains on the dinner plate, as well as the diced tomatoes and distinctly fat and thin sausage slices mixed in between the rice grains. He raised his hand and fanned it twice, and a wave of The soft and fresh scent immediately lingers on the tip of the nose.

He couldn't help but look up at Alexandre Dumas, gave him a thumbs up and said, "I didn't expect you to have this skill. Before you said you wanted to cook, I thought you were joking."

Hearing this, Alexandre Dumas snorted arrogantly.

"I can't blame you for thinking this way. After all, you British guys are making fun of what you want to eat every day. But I must also solemnly declare to you that even in France, you may not be able to taste as good as me. craftsmanship.”

As soon as Alexandre Dumas finished speaking, Arthur saw the red devil standing behind him, sucking his shiny oily fingers, and nodded in agreement: "Have a taste, Arthur, this fat man really didn't lie to you."

Alexandre Dumas sat on a chair, took a taste of his work, and then spoke with satisfaction.

"Besides literary creation, my greatest specialty is making delicious food. Or to put it more bluntly, writing is just a means for me to achieve my goals in life. I have two biggest goals in life. One is to taste delicious food all over the world. , and the second is to let everyone have a taste of it. The first goal can be achieved by writing alone. But the second goal must be achieved through the republican revolution."

Arthur heard that he was boasting so well, so he tasted it with suspicion.

He chewed the rice grains, savoring the fragrance and aftertaste in his mouth.

I have to say that this stewed rice tastes really good. If I had to describe what it tastes like, it might be like egg fried rice with oyster sauce and diced ham.

But where did Alexandre Dumas get oyster sauce these days?

Arthur thought for a moment, wiped his mouth with a napkin, then looked at Dumas and said calmly: "It's oysters, you added oysters."

Hearing this, Alexandre Dumas couldn't help but said in surprise: "I told you, you must be an old Frenchman lurking among the British."

"Oyster?" Elder caught the key word instantly, and he quickly asked: "Have the leech eggs gone?"

"What leech eggs?" Alexandre Dumas was confused now.

Darwin explained to him kindly: "It's the black thing around the outside of the oyster shell."

Arthur added: "It's bouncy and tastes like pudding."

As soon as Arthur finished speaking, he saw Alexandre Dumas rushing up the spiral staircase with a blue face. Needless to say, he must have gone to find the bathroom.

When Elder saw this, he couldn't help but his expression changed: "Look! Look! Even the French can't stand this thing!"

After saying this, he followed in the footsteps of Alexandre Dumas and left.

Arthur glanced at their backs, and then shrugged helplessly at Darwin: "Didn't you say that it's fine if it's cooked?"

Darwin smiled and nodded: "Yes, it is indeed cooked."

"Then why don't you eat?"

Darwin wiped his mouth calmly: "Who would take the initiative to eat that thing before they are about to starve to death?"

As soon as he finished speaking, there was a knock on the door.

"It's so late, who is it?"

Arthur picked up the white tea cup, stood up slowly, walked across the walkway, stepped on the velvet carpet, and opened the double white door.

As soon as he opened the door, his eyes were dazzled by the bright light from a portable kerosene lamp.

Before he could see the person clearly, he heard a surprised voice.

"Ah, Inspector Hastings?"

Arthur slowly opened his half-closed eyes, and then he saw the person clearly.

That was Charles Field, a young police officer who had been transferred to the Greenwich Police District to assist him in solving murder and body theft cases.

When Arthur saw him, he couldn't help but smile and asked: "Is this originally your patrol area? It's so late, what case did you come up with when you came to visit?"

Field looked a little nervous. He nodded repeatedly and said, "Superintendent Hastings, I'm afraid you don't know yet? Superintendent Clemens...is dead..."

"Dead?" Arthur was stunned for a moment, then quickly asked: "When and where?"

"Just...it was this evening that Superintendent Clemens was hanged from a tree in the northeast corner of Hyde Park. The specific case is still under investigation, so that's why I visited the nearby residents door to door so late. By the way. , Inspector Hastings, did you notice anything unusual in the evening?"