"The Widow" Bertha

Mycroft dropped to one knee in front of Bertha.

He flipped his wrist, palm forward, and Bertha raised her right foot knowingly when prompted.

When Mycroft's eyes touched Bertha's leather shoes, there was a somewhat displeased change in his expression—made by an Italian shoemaker, Bertha didn't mind a man giving her shoes.

Fortunately, these are leather shoes.

He took off her shoes and stockings for Bertha, whose ankles were thin enough for a man's hand to hold easily.But Mycroft didn't dare to do that, because Bertha's right ankle was already swollen.

"How long?" he asked.

"Um……"

Bertha thought for a moment: "A few hours."

Mycroft nodded: "I need a cold compress, wait a moment."

He got up and left the side hall, and after a while, he brought back a clean towel.

"It's a bit cold," the man said, "You have to be patient."

"Okay...Mike!!"

When the extremely cold temperature hit Bertha's ankle, she had a conditioned reflex and wanted to pull back her right foot.However, Mycroft's reaction was faster than her, and he grabbed Bertha's bare right foot with his backhand, and his wide palm dragged her heel, almost forcibly controlling her in place.

He chuckled: "I told you to be patient."

This towel was taken out of the ice cellar!Bertha felt nothing but pain from the cold sprain.

His ankles were cold, but his hands were warm.This is probably a small consolation.

Sitting in the chair, Bertha could see the top of Mycroft Holmes' head and the beautiful curve of the back of the man's neck after he lowered his head slightly.

Elegant arcs extended from the black hair at the back of his head and disappeared into the collar of his white shirt.

Such a man, kneeling in front of Bertha on one knee, holding her right foot, the concealed lines make people imagine.

Bertha immediately felt better.

She leaned over the arm of the chair, resting her head on her hands.Perhaps Bertha's gaze was so obvious that Mycroft could detect it without raising his head. In short, the man seemed to have eyes behind his back and said, "What?"

"Nothing," said Bertha lazily. "I wonder if I'm being soft-hearted."

"Ok?"

"If there is something wrong with putting the king out to risk," said Bertha, "I shall be sorry."

Mycroft couldn't help laughing.

He pressed the towel for Bertha, and deliberately took out an unbelievable tone: "So Mrs. Thames also had a day when she was not confident?"

The implication is that Bertha's worry has nothing to do with being soft-hearted. In the final analysis, she is not confident that her arrangement can ensure that Mycroft Holmes is safe and sound.

Bertha thought to herself, yes.

"I'm really afraid of the risk," she said. "After all, if you want to make Marco Esposito jump over the wall, you have to chop off his leg."

"So, do you want to chop off his factory leg, or smuggle this leg?"

It's such a hassle to talk to smart people.

If you want to find trouble with the Italians, it is nothing more than these two places-factory and smuggling, both of which Bertha can actually touch.

It was also a place for Mycroft to make a move, neither scratching the itch nor making the other party red-eyed.

Since Marco has determined that Mycroft is Bertha's political backer, and it is still not reliable, then follow his way of thinking.Bertha felt at ease when she used a man to find trouble for her competitors. She didn't care whether she relied on others or not. She had to use everyone on the chessboard, including herself.

"The arms he smuggled in were American," Bertha said. "As far as I know, there are quite a few galleries under the Italians' name."

"It's used for money laundering, as well as dealing with smuggled artworks." Mycroft continued.

"convenient?"

"One sentence is enough."

Mycroft said happily: "If you want to start a smuggling business, you just need to find someone to change hands, and then bribe the customs with enough money. The customs inspection will be tightened within seven days, and he can find out a lot of his goods. "

"One sentence is not enough."

Bertha corrected her matter-of-factly: "You can't break his leg and let the other party know who did it."

Mycroft: "You're afraid I'm too clean."

Bertha curled her lips: "Of course, who told you to be so capable, dear."

The man raised his head slightly when he heard the words, and gave Bertha a very helpful smile: "Thank you for the compliment."

After speaking, he wrapped the towel around Bertha's ankle and let go.

"I'll replace you with a new one when the towel is not cold," he said, "I remember wearing flat shoes when going out recently."

"it is good."

Bertha nodded: "I'll send you two boys to protect your safety temporarily, don't you mind?"

"of course not."

Mycroft accepted it calmly, and he didn't forget to sigh: "It's so sweet, Bertha, I also have a bodyguard when I go out."

Bertha laughed out loud: "You are so yin and yang."

Mycroft Holmes went out without anyone, and that was not far from the Downing Street explosion.There is no shortage of people around him, and he sent a few boys to serve as bodyguards, just to show the Italians.

So the more obvious the better.

The person assigned to Mycroft couldn't be ostentatious in red scarf and red gloves, and Bertha would have to think of Ned or Thomas' right-hand man.

Hope they don't feel bad.

"Just arrange it," Mycroft really didn't mind. "It's just Bertha, you have to be careful yourself. Once I make the customs tighten up and find trouble with the Italians, your people will not have a good time."

Bertha knew he meant Katie.

At present, Mrs. Thames and Marco Esporto have not completely broken their faces, so Katie is treated as a "gift from Mrs. Thames".

But once there was trouble and gang tensions, she was the hostage the Italians used to threaten Bertha.

Even so, Katie had no complaints about Bertha's decision.

The reason is simple - she can be a hostage or a spy.It's up to Katie to get the real evidence from the Italians related to the murder of the Irish worker Martha Marquis.

"I have arranged for people to respond," Bertha said calmly, "Nancy will let me know if there is any movement over there."

"So you've got it all sorted."

"of course."

"Then, I don't understand which link makes you worry about omissions," Mycroft said in a leisurely manner, "I'm dragged down."

"..."

Also.

Bertha lowered her eyes and looked at the half-kneeling and half-squatting man in front of her, and then there was an expression of exclamation on her beautiful face.

She stretched out her hand to caress Mycroft's face, probably because the low temperature around her ankles really froze Bertha, her fingertips were also cold, and she rubbed the man's face with her fingertips: "You are so considerate, in case I can't live without you after I get used to it, Mike, so what should I do?"

"If so."

Mycroft laughed: "I've got it, Bertha."

Bertha smiled.

She moved forward a little, closing the distance to her, and Mycroft understood immediately, but looked up, and planted a kiss on Bertha's lips.

The kiss that tasted so little was fleeting.

Then he whispered almost close to her skin: "If you don't want to, you can stop at any time, and the people you sent can return safely."

"You know I won't."

"So trust the man you send over," said Mycroft, "because it doesn't stop today, and there will be more of it later, and you'll have to get used to it, Bertha."

Yes, she has to get used to it.

At least she can't hesitate, she must decide.Otherwise, it would be disappointing Katie who got up and left without saying a word.

***

At the same time, near the factory block.

The 17-year-old Phoenix gathered his jacket tightly in the wind, hurried across the street, and stopped in front of a dark apartment.

He knocked on the door, and a woman's voice came from inside the door: "Who is it?"

Phoenix spoke a standard London dialect: "Who do you want to see when a prostitute picks up a client?"

There was a moment of silence inside the door, and then the greasy, dark door opened a crack.

Through the gap was Nancy's face.

Her face was pale, as if she had just cried, and she was stunned when she saw a young man who was almost a child standing outside the door, until Phoenix took the initiative to open his sleeves in the cold wind, and the bloody scar carved by the knife was on the ground. His arms form the word "Traitor".

Nancy understood immediately.

"You're from Ned," she lowered her voice. "Why are you?"

"What's the difference?"

Nancy pursed her lips.

She doesn't know about Phoenix.

Mrs. Thames threw out three "traitors", two of whom were Sykes, and Nancy naturally knew them.She didn't recognize Phoenix alone.

As the same person who came out to meet Katie, Nancy naturally tended to trust "her own people" rather than Phoenix.

The young man didn't mind this at all: "If you care, let the two of them come next time. I just came to say that the Italians accepted us."

Nancy paused: "...I see, you met Katie?"

Phoenix shook his head: "Not yet, the Italians are not stupid, how could we let us have casual contact with her."

Nancy: "We must find a way to see her. Whether you can keep her safe depends on you."

"I know, I'll do my best."

Even if there is no way, a way must be created.

Phoenix understood the situation of the three of them: the reason why the Italians accepted the "traitor" from Thames was to make Mrs. Thames uncomfortable, and the second was to hope that they could reveal some useful clues.

Naturally, they looked down on traitors and wanted to get in touch with Katie quickly...

"Miss Nancy," Phoenix took a deep breath, "you have to give me something useful."

"I know, don't call me Miss."

No emotion could be heard in Nancy's tone: "Bill Sykes was attacked in the underground sewer and was secretly hidden by his wife. It is said that his condition is very bad."

Phoenix looked up suddenly.

He stared at Nancy's eyes that seemed to have been crying, but the other party just continued: "This is enough for you to change your chance."

After she finished speaking, she pushed Phoenix and pushed him back into the street: "You want to come whoring before your hair grows?! Get out!"

Then the dirty wooden door closed again with a bang.

Phoenix, who was standing on the street, clenched his fists, turned and left.