Shadow of great britain

The thorn of a rose is part of her beauty, a reminder that any beauty comes with a price.

——William Blake

Paris in the 19th century has always been synonymous with art and romance, but under this glamorous appearance, there are also many unknown dark corners hidden.

In a narrow and dim alley in the Latin Quarter, a faint gas light swayed, casting mottled light and shadow on the sewage-covered floor tiles.

At the end of the alley, Liu Ying in a dark green dress leaned quietly against the damp wall. Her exquisite makeup still looked bright and moving even in such an environment. It is the nature of girls to pursue beauty, but in this situation It may not be a good idea to exude charm in a place.

All nearby residents knew that countless thugs were hiding in these deep alleys.

For those guys who have had one meal but not another, and may not be able to see the sun tomorrow after today, showing gentlemanly demeanor or being compassionate has never been the first priority.

Even if she wants to do business, this girl has obviously found the wrong place. Whether it is the steps in front of the Paris Opera House or the square in front of the Louvre, she can attract many customers who are richer than this group of paupers.

But this girl didn't seem to be afraid at all. She just leaned against the wall and held a long pipe specially designed for women. She pursed her lip glossed lips slightly, and in an instant, she puffed out a hazy smoke.

And she would soon pay the price for her carelessness. A hunchbacked homeless man staggered into the alley with heavy steps.

His clothes were in tatters, especially the ragged waist with a hole in it, revealing his skin, which was green and white with a little bit of plaster on it.

His hair hadn't been washed for an unknown amount of time, and the stains were tangled with it, like a knotted ball of yarn.

His numb face kept staring at the floor tiles. Under the reflection of the sewage, his dusty face could be vaguely distinguished.

There was only a rustling sound, and the scraping sound of torn trousers on the floor tiles, and the tramp's footsteps suddenly stopped.

He saw the girl's white shoes and slowly raised his heavy head.

His eyes stayed on the girl for a moment, his Adam's apple twitched slightly, and his cloudy eyes seemed to reveal his beast-like state of mind.

Then he slowly approached and asked in a hoarse voice: "Do you need help?"

Liu Ying raised her head and replied in a tone that was mixed with fatigue and teasing: "Help? You seem to need help more than me."

The homeless man's mouth twitched, he smiled bitterly, took out a copper coin from his pocket, and handed it to her: "I picked this up on the street today, all I found, although it's not much, but maybe I can help you buy some food. "

The girl rolled her eyes. She seemed a little impatient: "Come on, Lori! I have to do this again every time I interact with you. Don't you find it boring?"

The tramp was a little embarrassed when he heard this. He straightened his back, as if God had sent a miracle and cured his hunchback problem for many years: "Clara, I don't want to do this, but you understand, this is the rule. , for your safety, and for the safety of others. How do I know if you are being watched?"

"Surveillance?" Clara raised her lady's pipe and pointed at the narrow walls around her and said: "Is there a place near here that can monitor us? Is there anyone who can squat in the sky and monitor us? The only one who can do this is God. "

The homeless man rubbed the back of his head and said: "But it's always good to be cautious. Paris is like a big maze. There are always ways we don't know. We were cautious enough a few days ago, so that's why those damn policemen found out No, I moved ahead of time and escaped a chase.”

Clara originally wanted to teach him a few words, but seeing his pitiful appearance, she couldn't help but feel soft, but she still muttered.

"I told you a long time ago, don't come to Paris, and don't think about revenge. They have guns in their hands, and the police, dragoons, and National Guards are all at their disposal. And you are just a group of peasants. If no one gives you You lead the way, you can't even get out of the Saint-Germain district, and yet you still try to assassinate the king and bring about some kind of restoration for Bourbon!

Well now, Louis Philippe is not dead, not even injured at all, but you peasants have killed two of the stupidest ones, without even leaving a complete body! What's the point of doing this? "

The tramp felt a little uncomfortable when he heard this: "Clara, don't say that, you are also from the Brittany countryside. We are farmers and you are a farm girl. You have only been in Paris for a short time, and you regard yourself as Are you from the city?"

"How long? I've been here for six years! Although I'm not a city girl, I'm not as ignorant as I used to be, and I don't need help from others to live."

Clara said sarcastically: "I'm not like some fools who work hard for nothing, but can't get more than a sou in reward. I have to be called a traitor and a traitor, and will be stigmatized forever."

"you……"

The tramp pointed at Clara, but forced by the other party's sharp gaze, the honest farmer couldn't help but retreat.

"You are indeed different from before. People say that staying in Paris for a long time will turn your heart into iron. It seems that is indeed the case. When I was in the country, I still remember how kind and enthusiastic you were. Girl. Forget it, I know what you are thinking. You are afraid that we will implicate you. This is not your fault. Assassination is a man's business, so let's just leave it alone. No one will bother you in the future. ”

The homeless man walked out of the alley in despair, his back hunched down again.

"Wait!"

Unexpectedly, before he could go far, Clara stopped him: "Where else can you go without me?"

The tramp didn't look back, he just shook his head: "There must be a road before the car reaches the mountain. Everything will pass. God will never let His most docile sheep fall into the hands of evil people."

"Sheep! I talk about the sheep every day! Is it impossible to live without God?"

Clara was furious: "How many years have passed since the events in the Vendée? Can't you still see clearly the Girondins, the Jacobins, the Bonapartists, the Orthodox and now the Orleanists? ?They are all the same!

No one who comes here has a good life, it's just worse and worse. I can save you once, twice, or three times, but if you continue to do this, I can't save you countless times! I'm just a girl, not the counselor and dean!

You clearly promised me that if it doesn't work this time, you won't try the next time. But now you are planning to assassinate the king again! Do you think those policemen and guards are fools? I can guarantee that next time you take action, you will be pinned to the ground by a police officer before you even get close! "

"But... there is no other way. It is impossible for us to leave Paris. Now there are sentries on the roads out of the city, and every car coming and going must be inspected."

"What's the big deal? Can the sentry recognize each of you?"

The homeless man hesitated to speak: "We have lost someone. Duhan is missing. We suspect that he may have been arrested and rebelled or directly defected to the police."

"What?" Clara was startled when she heard this: "When did he disappear?"

"Just the night before yesterday. He said he was going to have a drink, but he didn't come back when we waited until dawn. The boss felt that something was wrong, so he immediately decided to move his residence. As a result, not long after we left, our hidden sentry ambushing nearby discovered A group of people broke into our house, most of them were plainclothes officers and people from the security department.”

"Wait...you mean...they already know your true identities?"

"I...I'm not sure, but the boss thinks so."

When Clara heard this, the hairs all over her body stood up.

Only then did she realize the danger she and her companions had fallen into.

She helped arrange all the fake identity documents that these royalist peasants used to rent cars. Although she had been very careful to maintain a single line of contact with this group of fellow villagers, Duhan did not know her identity and occupation. However, he knew that the royalists had an intermediary and that their identity documents came from Saint-Pélagé prison.

When she thought of this, she immediately thought of Franco, the forger who had helped him a lot.

Although she mixed the needs of the royalists with the ordinary needs of the Gwawi criminal gang, there was no guarantee that someone would follow the clues and eventually be traced to her.

After all, she was among the people who met Francos on behalf of the Gervai gang during this period.

A chill spread from head to toe, and Clara couldn't help but tremble all over.

Clara, calm down, calm down!

Although Clara had been warning herself in her heart, in the face of such a life-and-death matter, the girl's courage was not enough after all.

The tramp seemed to notice some changes in Clara's mood. He took off his ragged felt hat apologetically: "Don't worry, all their attention will be attracted when we execute the second plan. After all, Clara , you have done enough for us, everyone is very grateful to you. Yes...I shouldn't have come today. Forget me, I will forget you too."

"Lori!"

Clara shouted the tramp's name, but this time no matter how she shouted, the tramp never looked back. He hunched his back and got into the bustling crowd outside the alley.

When Clara saw his figure disappear, she gritted her teeth and stamped her foot fiercely: "Oh God! A flock of sheep will always be a flock of sheep, and a farmer will always be a farmer!"

…

Paris, Breaux Detective Agency.

Arthur was facing a floor-to-ceiling mirror and sorting out his attire for tonight's banquet, a pure black bow, a beautiful top hat, a well-tailored tuxedo, and a clean, white dress with a ruffled scarf. shirt.

And beside him, there were several friends who were going to the banquet with him tonight.

Mr. Louis Bonaparte, who is of noble blood, the arrogant Heinrich Heine, Alexandre Dumas, who is responsible for arranging the script, and Vidocq, who is holding a pipe and looking at the younger brothers.

It's just that these gentlemen all look a little strange at first glance. Although their bodies are still normal and their faces are still the same as before, the faces they present after simple embellishments and makeup are very different from before.

The cosmetics commonly used by ladies have become magical tools for face-changing in Vidocq's hands. He can change skin color, simulate wrinkles, and add freckles. With a few simple strokes, everyone's facial features are changed, almost as if they are a different person.

The use of wigs and fake beards doubled the effect of cosmetic makeovers. For a guy like Alexandre Dumas whose figure was too eye-catching, Vidocq also used realistic costumes made of plaster, clay, leather, animal skins and paper pulp. mask.

Under the careful preparation of the Paris detective, everyone except Arthur almost changed their appearance.

Louis patted his prosthetic chin in the mirror. His chin was almost a full circle bigger than before.

Seeing this, Alexandre Dumas couldn't help but joked: "Louis, I don't mean to offend, but I have to say that your current chin is more royal than the original one. With such a chin, you can just walk on the street and ask people to take a look. , will definitely make everyone think that you are a member of the Habsburg family."

Heine touched the fake hemorrhoids on his face: "This thing is really lifelike. Mr. Vidocq, maybe I should take the time to learn from you some other time, make a fake hemorrhoids or something, and then take advantage of a month On a dark and stormy night, I rushed into Metternich’s bedroom and patched him up.”

Vidocq put his legs on the desk: "Of course there is no problem, but before you make fake hemorrhoids, you have to show me what real hemorrhoids look like. I am always very strict about details. No. It’s not enough to do it to the extreme.”

Heine raised his eyebrows and said, "That's no problem. I'll bring Metternich's ass to you another day, and you can watch the original version directly."

Vidocq laughed loudly: "I have to admit that I had misunderstandings about Germans before. I thought you never had a sense of humor."

"Oh, this can't be regarded as a misunderstanding." Heine leaned on the corner of the desk: "It's just that I am an exception."

Louis straightened his tie: "Okay, okay, Metternich's hemorrhoids can be put aside for now. I just want to ask a question now. Even if you are going to create an illusion for Gervai's criminal gang, why not just How about holding a fake party? Isn’t it really easy to expose the truth?”

"Well..." Of course Vidocq would not tell the whole story about his plan to commit bank fraud. He just replied: "Sir, you don't want to pursue this point. You have to know that detectives always have a little bit of themselves when handling cases. Little quirks, we need to keep some little secrets so there will be surprises when the truth is revealed.”

"Okay." Seeing that Vidocq was unwilling to say anything, Louis did not continue to ask: "But our female companion today should be the Bohemian girl and her..."

When Louis said this, he suddenly remembered what Arthur mentioned to him yesterday, and the conversation stopped.

Although Arthur's words were very vague, Louis clearly remembered that the Bohemian girl seemed to have connections with Young Italy. In addition to the commission from the Paris police, Vidocq also took over the task of tracking down Mazzini for the Austrians. The job of waiting for someone's whereabouts.

Therefore, even though he admired this legendary figure in the Paris police community, due to political stance, he did not intend to talk to Victor about the Bohemian girl.

When Arthur saw the ulterior expressions of Louis and Vidocq in the mirror, he knew that his plan was half successful.

In fact, Louis and Vidocq were not the only ones present to have something on their mind. The calm Sir Hastings also had something on his mind.

Because just before he went out to see Louis yesterday, he met another group of people in front of the hotel where he lived, a group of Brittany farmers who were urgently ill and sought medical treatment, and asked him for help when they were desperate.

Arthur clearly remembered that they lost a companion. He didn't know whether he drowned in the Seine River after being drunk in the middle of the night, or whether he was arrested by the Paris police...

Or...

Arthur stared at himself in the mirror, but the corner of his eye fell on Vidoc who was reading the newspaper leisurely behind the desk.

The corners of Arthur's mouth moved slightly, and his voice was so low that only he could hear: "Or... Mr. Vidocq, is this a trick of yours?"