Shadow of great britain

If we are destined to do something, then everything in the past is a prologue.

——Shakespeare's "The Tempest"

In the London Stock Exchange, Lionel lowered his head and listened quietly to Arthur's plan. The Jewish young man's mood was as good as ever. There was neither a smile nor a trace of sadness on his face. mood.

He just held the silver-plated round-headed cane, put it slightly on the floor of the hall, shook his head slightly at Arthur, and whispered: "Arthur, of course we are friends, so if you If I want Rothschild to provide an interest-free loan of ten thousand pounds or twenty thousand pounds, there is no problem. However, this is not a matter of tens of thousands of pounds. If I really do what you said, once Greenway If the political situation does not develop as we expected, then Rothschild's business in Britain for more than ten or twenty years will be destroyed today."

Having said this, Lionel also took out a check from his jacket pocket and placed it in front of Arthur: "This money represents my personal trust in you. However, no matter how much it is, it will not be mine." It's up to the individual to decide. Arthur, you are responsible to the citizens of London, and I am also responsible to all investors who trust Rothschild."

Arthur took off his hat and glanced at the check in front of him. He smoothed his hair and seemed a little upset.

However, he still smiled and held Lionel's hand: "I have to say, I'm a little disappointed. But, Lionel, I understand your decision."

The trader in front of the window heard the conversation between the two big men and felt as if the sky was about to collapse. He tried his best to pray to God, but he still could not avoid today becoming Good Friday on the stock exchange.

He looked at Lionel's leaving figure and asked Arthur cautiously: "Mr. Police Officer, do you still want to buy public bonds now?"

"Of course." Arthur gathered the checks in front of the window: "And I want to buy more, thirty-seven thousand two hundred pounds, plus the five thousand pounds personally sponsored by Mr. Rothschild."

The trader smiled bitterly after hearing this and said: "Sir, why are you doing this? If you have read "Don Quixote", then you should understand that as a knight, charging at the windmill will not end well. It's bad luck. If there are too few, holding on is definitely not smart, because smart people usually choose to save their lives to wait for future opportunities. And the strongest foundation in the world is money."

When Arthur heard this, he just smiled and handed over a stack of money orders in his hand: "It seems that you really like the novel "Don Quixote" so much that you can recite the famous aphorisms in it casually. In this case, you must also remember that it also said, do you know, sir, that a wise Don Quixote is of little use, but a crazy Don Quixote is endlessly interesting."

When the trader heard this, he curled his lips and sighed. He couldn't help but follow Arthur's words: "This sentence may sound unkind, but I really hope that Don Quixote will remain crazy for the rest of his life."

Arthur took off his hat and leaned forward slightly, smiled at him and said: "Then, sir, please."

The trader took a deep breath, stood up from his trading seat, waved the check still stained with Arthur's body temperature, and shouted hoarsely: "Mr. Arthur Hastings, with 85.5 points, won the face value of 43,500." pounds of British debt!"

Thirty-seven thousand two hundred pounds, which is a lot of money, big enough to buy dozens of high-end villas in London.

But on the London Stock Exchange, it looked like a small sum of money, so small that even if it tried its best, it could only push up the panic-stricken British government bonds by 0.1 points.

The stockbrokers and investors glanced at Lionel, who turned away from Arthur. He was sitting motionless in the seat belonging to Rothschild, neither selling public bonds nor buying high-profile.

For those who have been on the London Stock Exchange for many years, they all know what this means. Rothschild received no news, and the crisis at Greenwich remained unresolved.

In an instant, the London Stock Exchange, which had just calmed down, fell into a new round of madness. Many people are trying their best to rush to the trading window where Arthur is located, and this is just to get ahead of others and seize the bond purchase price here which is 0.1 points higher than other windows. .

"I have 2,000 pounds of government bonds here, sell them all!"

"I have 3,700 pounds. If I sell it, I will sell it all!"

"I...I have...damn it! Miller, you old bastard! Don't squeeze me! I never saw before that you turned out to be such an uneducated guy!"

In the new round of selling frenzy, these gentlemen of the City, who are usually known for their elegant demeanor and aristocratic temperament, are like lions that have been hungry for weeks, in order to get the piece of gold thrown out by Arthur. They even didn't hesitate to fight when a shred of meat was torn off the short ribs.

If they hadn't been wary of the thirty or so Scotland Yard police officers who had just arrived, they might have pulled out the pistols stuck in their waists and fired.

Arthur's thirty-seven thousand two hundred pounds was like a bottle of water poured into the sea. Although there was a splash, it didn't take long for the sea to return to its normal state.

85.5 points, 85.2 points, 84.9 points...

On the bulletin board, the staff member in charge of drawing lines with chalk could hardly keep up with the speed of the decline in public bonds. He had just written a new line of numbers, and before he could take a breath, a new quote came to his ears, forcing him to hurriedly add it again. The price just written is deleted and a lower figure is filled in instead.

Desperation prevailed throughout the Exchange, although the gentlemen here were mostly in good health and well-dressed.

But they felt that the people who were fighting the rioting crowd in Greenwich at this time were not the Scotland Yard police and the Royal Horse Artillery guarding the Woolwich Arsenal, but their group of stockbrokers.

This isn't the London Stock Exchange, it's hell on earth.

Perhaps they couldn't bear the huge psychological pressure, or they couldn't bear the depressing atmosphere. Some elderly men in the crowd had begun to feel dizzy. The weaker ones were helped by servants to sit up. We rested on a bench at the stock exchange.

While shivering, these old men took out their handkerchiefs and wiped their faces carefully, while not forgetting to stare at the bulletin board in the exchange with their little eyes that had been shrewd for decades.

83.3 points, 83.0 points, 82.8 points, 82.7 points, 82.7 points...

The numbers on the bulletin board were like a bolt of lightning that suddenly struck the heads of these shrewd old foxes.

The old men leaned forward and stretched out their necks. They looked at each other and communicated with just their eyes.

Everyone read an aura of suspicion and doubt in the other's eyes.

Is the Treasury Bond Downtrend Slowing?

They looked up again at the crowd of people selling crazily.

These people are still selling, and their craziness in selling continues unabated...

In this case...

So, who is taking over the public debt they are selling?

The old foxes subconsciously looked at the seat belonging to Rothschild not far away. Lionel Rothschild was still sitting there as if he didn't know anything. His expression was serious, and he looked No difference from before.

But those who were interested discovered that his pocket was more bulging than before, and a looming white envelope was exposed there.

Rothschild got the message!

a bolt from the blue!

After a brief shock, the old men rolled their eyes involuntarily. They did not communicate directly for fear of leaking the news, but raised their eyebrows slightly, as if they were looking for each other to confirm each other.

Many of these old agents were from the same era as Lionel's father, Nathan Rothschild, so of course they also remember how Nathan, a damn Jewish upstart, became famous in the Financial City. of.

The Battle of Waterloo, which broke out on June 18, 1815, was not only a victory for the Duke of Wellington, it was also a victory for Nathan Rothschild.

After the anti-French coalition forces commanded by the Duke of Wellington defeated the restored Napoleon Bonaparte, a field messenger arrived in Folkestone, England, in the early morning of June 19, and sent a message to Nathan who had been waiting there for three days. ·Rothschild reported the crucial outcome of the war.

After Nathan learned that the British army had won the war, he did not disclose the news immediately. Instead, he chose to secretly rush to the London Stock Exchange when the market was still unclear and society generally expected Britain to be defeated.

On the exchange, Nathan deliberately created an illusion by instructing Rothschild's stockbrokers to sell British bonds, as if Britain had lost the Battle of Waterloo, which led to panic selling of British bonds in the market. , causing bond prices to fall sharply. Nathan, on the other hand, picked up cheap chips in the panic of the Treasury sell-off.

After the Battle of Waterloo, the Rothschild family led by Nathan instantly became one of the largest private holders of British public debt, alongside the Baring family. With this status, they naturally became one of the twenty-one original shareholders of the Bank of England.

From that day on, no one in the Financial City dared to scold Nathan in front of him as a Jewish nouveau riche with no artistic taste, even though the old man liked to show off his wealth by waving his trouser pockets full of gold coins to strangers. Quite annoying.

The old brokers quickly reached an agreement through eye contact.

He is truly Nathan's son, and his methods are exactly the same as his rude father's.

Do these damn Jews think we are easy to deceive?

The old brokers were speechless for a while. They did not stand up and leave, nor did they immediately wave their checks and join in the rush for funds. Instead, they calmly called their apprentices and whispered a few words to them.

All the apprentices' faces froze, and they showed puzzled expressions when facing their boss.

But their curiosity was quickly suppressed by the stern eyes of the old men.

The apprentices understood the meaning of the boss's eyes: If you have any questions, ask them later. As for now, just keep your mouth shut and pick up the chips secretly. Rothschild picked up this bargaining chip, but why can’t we pick it up?

In such a strange atmosphere, more than twenty apprentices quickly blended into the restless crowd.

In accordance with the boss's instructions, they quietly bought into the British public debt that had been beaten to the center of the earth.

However, even though they could only eat three to five hundred pounds at a time, as the number of people increased, the conspiracy of these old foxes was quickly reflected on the bulletin board.

81.4 points, 81.3 points, 81.2 points, 81.2 points, 81.2 points...

Someone on the stock exchange had noticed something was wrong.

A group of people gathered in front of the bulletin board, studying for a long time without knowing what was going on. Suddenly, someone accidentally glanced at the dozen senior agents who were chatting and laughing in the rest area.

I don't know who shouted in a low voice: "Damn it, those old guys are scrambling for money, and all the apprentices around them are gone."

This sentence instantly caused the agents near the bulletin board to explode.

"Where did they get the news?"

"Wait a minute! Are there a few less stockbrokers around Rothschild?"

"Has Rothschild received the letter?"

Suddenly, someone seemed to have figured out the joint. He slapped his thigh suddenly and said regretfully: "Damn it! You idiots, we were all fooled! Lionel Rothschild, this Jew The bastard was just acting! When the police officer appears here, doesn’t it mean that the situation has stabilized? However, he insists on pretending, as if things are not yet certain, and this is all his plan! "

Others nearby seemed to be awakened by the words. They suddenly remembered the classic Rothschild case that their old manager told them: "This... damn, he is reenacting the Battle of Waterloo." !”

"Let's go, before the others react, we can still recover some losses if we go back now."

Some people were in a hurry to return to the battlefield, but those who were smarter than them had already sneaked back while they were chatting.

On the bulletin board, the harsh scratching sound of chalk sounded again.

Stab!

81.2 points have been crossed out, and the current new price of British government bonds is - 81.8 points.

81.8 points, 82.3 points, 82.7 points, 83.2 points...

In just a few minutes, the British government bonds came out of a precipitous downward trend, and not only that, it even entered a crazy upward stage.

The gunpowder smoke in the sky that had just frightened stockbrokers now seemed to be insignificant, even though the color of the gunpowder smoke clearly seemed a bit thicker than before.

Confidence in the market is being rebuilt as quickly as it collapsed.

At this moment, Lionel, who was sitting on the bench, finally moved. He stood up with his cane, took off his hat and shook it gently. The iconic smile returned to his face.

"Rothschild Bank is willing to buy British government bonds with a face value of 200,000 pounds at 85.5 points."

The sound was not particularly loud, but it was enough to silence the entire London Stock Exchange.

As soon as he finished speaking, the sound of galloping horse hooves suddenly came from outside the stock exchange.

A man wearing a cloak and holding a pipe dismounted from his horse and dropped the reins and whip into the servant's hand. There were many raindrops and mud spots on his body, and even the top hat on his head was a little tilted.

He stepped into the door of the exchange with small steps on his riding boots, and everyone involuntarily made way for him.

However, before he came to the transaction window, the gentleman suddenly stopped. He took off his hat and nodded slightly at Arthur.

Arthur also took off his hat and returned the greeting with a smile: "Good afternoon, Mr. Baring."

Alexander Baring did not say much, but raised his hand with his pipe between his legs and said: "Bahrain Bank is willing to buy British public bonds with a face value of 350,000 pounds at a price of 88 points."

One sentence instantly plunged the stock exchange into madness, and the crowd was like a pot of boiling water.

Barings and Rothschild have both expressed their opinions. What does this mean?

That fictitious crisis has been overcome, and the British government bonds are still the most creditworthy and valuable bonds in the world.

"Lloyds Bank is willing to buy British government bonds with a face value of 150,000 pounds at a price of 88.3 points."

"The Bank of Scotland is willing to buy British government bonds with a face value of 120,000 pounds at a price of 88.4 points."

"Brand \u0026 Carr is willing to pay 88.5 points..."

"Holmes \u0026 Stephenson..."

Stockbrokers who had just been so desperate that they wanted to jump off the building now began to regret selling off government bonds.

As for those who are more level-headed, they know that they have no time to fret at this time. The price of government bonds has returned to normal at this time, but the prices of many stocks have not yet returned. If you seize the opportunity at this time, you can not only make up for the previous losses, but even make a small profit.

Arthur walked to the door of the exchange and looked back at the stockbrokers who had fallen into madness in another dimension. From heaven to hell, it usually only takes a moment. Everyone thought the crisis was over, but he didn't think so, and no sane person thought so.

Because he could clearly see the road outside the exchange, the mottled stone road, the patter of raindrops falling, the cold and fresh air across his face, reminding him all the time, this is sweeping the entire world. The heavy rain in London has not stopped yet.

Behind him, footsteps came, it was Lionel Rothschild.

He stood next to Arthur, lit the pipe and said nothing, but Arthur saw the white gloves he was holding the pipe in, and the palms of the gloves were completely soaked with sweat.

Arthur smiled at him, took a sip and said: "Lionel, you know these stockbrokers very well, and you also know how to boost their confidence. And, I have to say, your You're very brave. I thought you would definitely reject me, but I didn't expect you actually agreed to me."

Lionel's voice sounded a little hoarse: "I'm gambling. Everyone thought that my father made a lot of money in the Battle of Waterloo because of his strategizing, but they didn't know that in fact, long before the two sides started fighting, our hands A lot of British public debt was accumulated here. My father almost put his wealth and life on the Duke of Wellington, which was how Rothschild later became a position in the UK. Arthur, what I did today has nothing to do with me. My father is exactly the same, I hope you really didn’t lie to me, otherwise..."

He turned to point at the crowd of people in the exchange who were frantically scrambling for funds, and said, "Did you see that? If London can't hold it back, they will soon start a new round of selling. In the stock exchange, confidence comes and goes quickly. Come on, most things have no logic."

Arthur looked down at Lionel's pocket: "Is this a letter from your father?"

Lionel nodded and shook his head again. He took out the letter, opened the envelope and gave Arthur a look. There was nothing inside.

Just when Arthur wanted to chat with Lionel for a few more words, Arthur felt someone put his shoulder on his shoulder. It was Alexander Balin who had just arrived here.

Mr. Baring lowered his head and whispered beside Arthur: "Officer Hastings, new orders from the Duke of Wellington. He requires all currently mobile armed forces to assemble towards the Tower of London."

Arthur was stunned: "Why is this?"

Balin took a deep breath: "Because we received news that the attack on the Woolwich Arsenal in Greenwich was just a cover-up. The attack on the Royal Armory in the Tower of London was real. Those damn traitors , has been planning to capture it from the very beginning!”