Shadow of great britain

The sun was setting at dusk, and the stars had just appeared in the light blue sky that had not yet darkened.

Arthur and Elder stood at the entrance of the Theater Royal in Drury Lane, West End, London. They were surrounded by well-dressed upper-class gentlemen and ladies.

The carriages that came and went blocked the road. Arthur and Elder were squeezed between the wide skirts of pretty ladies and could not move. The air was still filled with the pungent smell of perfume.

The two of them moved outward little by little, back to back, taking two steps forward and one step back. Occasionally, they turned to look around to avoid being pushed back by the crazy crowd. It looked like they were dancing flamenco.

Their strange behavior, coupled with the ordinary clothes they wear, will occasionally attract the eyes of the servants around them.

Arthur cursed: "Elder, what's going on today? Was it always so congested here?"

Elder was also anxious. He was stepped on by the ladies' high heels and screamed.

"Damn it! I know it's always hard to get tickets for the Royal Theater, but it won't be like this, right? There must be some big artist coming to perform today. Look at this group of people, it's like they're crazy Rushing in like crazy!"

Arthur sighed: "We shouldn't have come to see any show. Even if we were going to see a show, we shouldn't go this way. If I had known it would end up like this, I should have gone home after having dinner with you at the pier."

Elder retorted: "I didn't fucking arrange this. Alas! It's a boast today. The Royal Theater is so jammed, and those who can't buy tickets will definitely not be willing to go back like this, and will probably go to other theaters in the West End. Let’s go to the theater. It’s a wasted trip for us today.”

As soon as Elder finished speaking, he saw Arthur raising his finger and pointing at the signboard at the entrance of the Royal Theater and shouting.

"Damn it! Elder! I know why there is such a traffic jam today! Damn it, the violin master from the Apennines, Niccolo Paganini, is performing at the Royal Theater today!"

"I don't care who he is! Even if he is the Russian Czar Nikolai Pavlovich, he must let me out today!"

At this time in the past, Agares would always jump out and make a few taunts.

But today, he stepped on Arthur's head with great interest and looked towards the hall of the Royal Theater.

"Hey! Arthur! Look at those hands that can play the violin. How about you go get it for me?"

Arthur was so depressed that he cursed: "I might as well get you two pig knuckles!"

Elder was confused by the noisy environment and asked loudly: "Arthur, what did you say?"

Agares gave them a disgusted look: "You two guys don't know how to appreciate music. This is art. Look at your vulgar looks, you are almost as good as Barr."

Arthur, you were paid just two days ago. Isn't the Inspector's weekly salary one pound and fifteen shillings? Coupled with the money you spent on returning the boat ticket, you should be able to afford tickets to the Theater Royal, right? Go buy me one now. "

Arthur said angrily: "How dare you think about it! Tickets at the Royal Theater usually sell for three to five pounds, and tonight there is a solo by a master like Paganini. I estimate that I have saved up for half a year to come here." Watch a show."

When Agares heard this, he couldn't help but shook his head with regret: "It's such a pity. If you miss this time, you don't know when the next time will be."

Arthur and Elder struggled for a long time and finally squeezed out of the surging crowd.

The two of them stood in the open space with their knees bent and breathing heavily.

Elder said thankfully: "I almost thought I was going to be trampled to death by them."

Arthur waited until he was out of breath, then raised his head and pinched his waist and said, "Forget it, that's it for today, I'm going home."

Elder was also disturbed and lost his interest. He waved goodbye and said: "Go slowly, I won't see you off. Wait until next time. I will invite you to the show next time."

After the two waved goodbye, Arthur walked eastward along the street.

I have to say that other nearby theaters were doing very well tonight thanks to Paganini's performance.

In order to maintain order at the scene, even Scotland Yard sent a lot of police officers to watch and stand guard nearby. Police officers with civilized sticks could be seen everywhere on the road.

In addition, there are many local police teams hired by wealthy groups in the West District to patrol around.

The houses here are clean and elegant, the lights here are brightly lit at night, the roads here are wide and clean, the theaters here are bustling with people, and everything here seems in order.

Here, you rarely see dirty children, and you rarely find pickpockets with a gleaming gleam in their eyes. Even rats that are not subject to human restraint rarely visit here.

Arthur looked at everything in front of him and couldn't help sighing with his pipe in his mouth: "It would be great if Greenwich was like this."

He walked happily on the streets of the West End, feeling that everything in the future was full of hope.

But as he was about to cross Oxford Street, he suddenly stopped.

In front of him was the only dark island in the bright West End of London.

The rest of the West District is as bright as day, and only the darkness in front of you will tell you that night has fallen.

That was the parish of St. Giles, which was like a speck of mold on an apple, seeping into the very bones of the West End, reminding the wealthy people who lived here that there was such a thing as poverty.

The narrow muddy streets are filled with the stench of excrement and urine, and are crowded with simple but tall houses arranged in a labyrinth in a small space.

This was once a luxurious residence for those with wealth, and its former glory can still be seen from the reliefs and wall decorations on the exterior walls of many houses.

But now, it is only the residence of homeless, homeless, evil and unfortunate people living on the streets.

The antique, dusty and muddy carvings on the stone create a subtly weird feeling with the surrounding environment. Some walls have collapsed in half, but the gaps have been filled with broken stones and old newspapers picked up everywhere.

The gable, which appears to be of late medieval origin, is crumbled beyond recognition, its surface damp and stained by London's harsh weather and toxic industrial fumes.

From the open door, you can vaguely see the dim stairwell inside. The plaster-painted walls are covered with black palm prints. Most of the huge handrails and carved railings are missing, and the wind will blow. It will make a squeaking sound.

And through the light emitted by the swaying oil lamp hanging on the stairwell, you can still see a dirty drunkard wearing a ragged felt hat, blood on his head, and sleeping soundly with a bottle of wine lying on the ground. You can tell at a glance. , he must have just fallen down the stairs not long ago.

Arthur looked at everything in front of him, and it reminded him of the East End of London where he worked.

Under the dim and turbid night sky in St. Giles Parish, Arthur's face could not be seen at all. He could only see a red-light pipe flickering in and out of the pitch-black environment.

The red dot hovered for a long time, and as a burst of thick smoke dispersed, he finally planned to leave.

But before he could take a step forward, he heard a sound of insults and beatings coming from his ears.

"Damn it! Give me your wallet!"