Mermaid Reef

1927, London.

The fog is the ghost that roams the streets and alleys of the city, and the gas lamps cast a dim light.

The houses on both sides of the street were silent in the fog, vaguely looking like monsters, and the lights in the houses were their eyes to observe the world.

"Woo-get out of the way!"

A fast-moving black and carved carriage almost ran into a child selling newspapers. The driver in a short black coat angrily stuck out his head and whipped the child.

The child was very clever, and ran back with the cloth bag full of newspapers.

Then it went dark, and the newsboy bumped into a man on the side of the street.

The mist covered the man's face, and the newsboy could only see the black coat collar turned up when he raised his head.

"Sorry, sir!"

The newsboy took a step back in horror.

It's really cold today, the newsboy thought, this gentleman's clothes are as cold as ice.

Afraid of being beaten, the newsboy shrank his neck and prepared to run away.

At this time, a hand wearing a brown leather glove was stretched out in front of the newsboy, with two coins on it.

"A copy of The Times."

"Okay, sir."

The newsboy's eyes lit up and he quickly took the coin.

Because the fog is too heavy today, the business of selling newspapers on the side of the road is very bleak. He bites the bullet and asks, "Do you need the "Daily Telegraph"? It only costs one penny, and you can see more news. There is Brandon Family The latest interview on the inheritance dispute case!"

The man didn't speak, and took out another coin.

The newsboy happily took the money, and took out the ink-smelling newspaper from the cloth bag.

The man opened the newspaper, and the dim light here didn't seem to affect him at all.

The newsboy looked back as he walked, but the fog was so thick that he couldn't see anything after a few steps.

"what?"

The newsboy suddenly looked down at the money in his hand with a confused expression.

"Why do I have three pennies in my hand? Did you sell a few newspapers just now?" The newsboy thought about it hard, only remembering that he was almost hit when he was crossing the road, but he didn't know where the coin came from, maybe I picked it up.

There were still a lot of unsold morning newspapers in the cloth bag, and there was no time to be dazed. The newsboy stuffed the coins into his pocket and yelled loudly: "There is new evidence in the Brandon family inheritance dispute, come and see, "Daily Telegraph The Daily News made a complete record of the case, and each copy only costs one penny!"

The sun gradually rose, the fog cleared a little, and there were more carriages on the street.

A four-wheeled carriage stopped on the side of the street with a brass bell.

The coachman was a little surprised to see a gentleman wearing a top hat and overcoat standing by the side of the road, because such a person usually has his own servant, and if he wants to go out in the morning, the servant will call the rental carriage to the door of the apartment.As for the crowded and dirty public carriages, they are not considered at all, so why stand on the side of the street and wait?

"Sir, do you need a carriage?" the coachman asked the passengers.

The man held a newspaper in his hand, as if he was flipping through it, and raised his head upon hearing the sound.

The light blue eyes were full of doubts, as if they were examining the coachman.

Just when the coachman felt regretful, the man put away the newspaper and walked to the side of the carriage.

"Trafalgar Square, Charing Cross Road."

He didn't ask the price, and got into the carriage.

The coachman was a little uneasy. He felt that this gentleman had a lot of status, but his eyes were terrifying.

"Okay, sir. It's a long way. You can rest in the carriage for a while."

The carriage staggered through the streets of London.

The gas lamps went out, and the number of pedestrians on the road increased.

People came out of the thick fog and disappeared into the fog in a hurry.

This city is special...has a special smell...

But through the window glass, I couldn't see more things, and the mysterious atmosphere was hidden in the fog.

The coachman suddenly heard his passenger knock on the wall of the carriage, and he hastened to listen to his orders.

"Is there anything on the street you just passed?"

The voice is gentle and calm, the words are rigorous, showing good breeding.

The coachman secretly confirmed the unusual identity of this gentleman, and at the same time replied respectfully: "That's Mrs. Dutt's garden, a famous salon in London."

It's called Sharon, but it's actually a senior women's branch.

Like those clubs in London, you need to be introduced to enter the door, and people with the identity of the coachman just hang around the door a few times.

"Have you been to Mrs. Dutt's garden? The scene at night is different from that in the daytime. It's very foggy today, and it's not easy to identify..."

Before the coachman could finish his sentence, there was a piercing scream from that street.

Immediately afterwards, there was a loud movement, as if someone was running, which could not be seen clearly.

"Beep, beep—"

Someone blew the whistle.

At this time, the carriage had already passed the street, and the coachman wanted to watch the excitement, but he couldn't turn his head.

"My God, something happened." The coachman whispered, "It may be a robbery, or it may be a murder."

"Murder case?"

"That's right, there have been cases of robbery and murder here in the past, when the fog was the heaviest in the early morning, and the body was already stiff when it was discovered." After finishing speaking, the driver found that his passenger did not respond, and immediately explained awkwardly, "Look, I Don't say such disappointing things, Mrs. Dutt's garden is very good, and it is very famous in London."

The man in the carriage still didn't answer, as if he had fallen asleep.

Half an hour later, Charing Cross Road arrived.

The coachman was about to inquire about the specific house number when a brown leather glove stuck out of the carriage, with four shillings (note) on it.

The coachman took the money and looked at the guest quietly.

The other party didn't wait for him to put the ladder on, and jumped off the carriage directly.

He was tall with the collar of his thick velvet coat turned up, and he carried a hazel walking stick topped with sapphires.

High nose bridge, handsome appearance, and a pair of very special light blue eyes.

"The rear wheel of the carriage should be repaired."

The man left a word and walked into the thick fog.

The coachman shivered and found himself standing behind the carriage in a daze.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Another taxi driver passed by, and the driver raised his head to say hello.

"My wheel is broken."

The driver replied that he took a closer look at the wheels and found that some parts were indeed loose, and they should be repaired quickly, otherwise accidents would happen at any time.

"Strange, it's hard to detect this kind of looseness. How did I find out that there is something wrong with the wheels? Am I sending guests to Charing Cross Road?" The coachman fell into a daze, suspecting that he hadn't woken up today.

The man with the sapphire cane has entered Charing Cross Road.

He didn't stay too long in front of those exquisite shops, but walked all the way to the narrow alleys behind the shops.

The streets are gradually becoming less tidy, and water and stains appear on the road.

At the door of an old apartment building, a woman with a basket was arguing with a cloth merchant, completely ignoring the people walking towards them.

"It's not even nine o'clock!"

A head protruded from the third floor of the apartment, and the hair was piled up in a mess. The resident seemed to want to remind the people below not to disturb the residents, but he saw the man wearing a black top hat walking quickly at a glance.

Resident: "..."

He watched helplessly as the man with light blue eyes suddenly raised his head, then raised his hat brim and gestured towards him.

***

"Damn it, this is London!"

John jumped back from the ledge and walked around the room.

He heard the creaking of the stairs, someone going up.

But John bet that no one will hear or see this mysterious visitor.

"...This shouldn't be, isn't the matter in Black Reef Town already over?"

John held his head and murmured to himself.

It has been two years since he came back from Black Lagoon Town. John, who failed in the commission, finally failed to solve the rent problem at the end of the year, so he had to return the detached house and continue to accept commissions under the name of another colleague. He usually lives in this old house. In the apartment building.

In addition to the plummeting standard of living, the quality of commissions that can be received is also declining.

After all, no one believed in a detective who didn't even have his own residence and was working in another firm.

The clients have become some stingy businessmen, poor teachers, typists, employees of commercial firms...

Anyway, as long as it is a business with a considerable commission fee, it will not be John's turn.

Unexpectedly, the bleakness of life has not yet reached the bottom, and the nightmare from two years ago has reappeared?

The door was knocked twice.

Not serious nor serious, very polite.

John didn't want to open the door, wanted to jump off the ledge, he knew a perfectly safe escape route.

But for some mysterious beings, running is useless, and hiding is impossible. Now that they have found the door, they can only carry it hard.

John flung open the door.

"Hello, Dr. Johnson."

John used the first address he had met and forced a smile.

"Hi, I'm not a doctor, you know that."

Jason took off his hat and looked around the room.

The living room is small, with a fireplace, a dining table, stacks of newspapers and books, and other things can no longer be put down.

Jason went to the chair and sat down, watching the detective close the door with a vigilant expression.

The detective's right hand was still in the pocket of his pajamas, and Jensen figured there was a gun hidden there.

"Be careful of fire." Jason reminded sincerely.

John: "..."

Jason folded his hands and said slowly: "I understand this feeling. It's frustrating to see someone who doesn't want to see, wonder if the other person is following me, and keeps chasing me."

"Why do you seem to understand it?" John wondered.

He noticed that Jason seemed to choke, with a strange expression on his face.

Jason quickly regained his composure. He took out a purple velvet money bag from his coat and put it on the table.

The rope tied to the money bag was loosened, and it was clearly seen that it was full of gold coins. There were about forty guineas in this bag, which was a typist's annual income.

"Your reward for finding that whale oil in Black Lagoon."

Jensen took out a pure and polished ruby ​​from his pocket, "This is the deposit, I still have a request to trouble you."

John: "..."

He refused in his heart, but his eyes were uncontrollably attracted to gems and gold coins.

"Interesting, for an existence like you, what else do you need my help with?" John sat across the table and sharply pointed to the crux of the problem.

"Under normal circumstances, no, but I have caused some trouble. In order not to attract its attention and be discovered by it, I can't use my power now."

Jason looked at John as if he was looking at a very useful and convenient tool, "And you are indeed a very capable detective."

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The author has something to say:

Completely useless, you can ignore the comments:

1 pound = 20 shillings, 1 shilling = 12 pence

Metal currency, 1 pound = 1 safrin, there is also a gold coin called Guinea, which is slightly more expensive, and the value is 21 shillings

There is also a kind of coin, half safrin, which is half a pound. If you see "half safrin as a reward" in Western novels, don't think that it is a banknote torn in half, or a coin that is torn in half. denomination

At that time, 1 British pound was about 1000 RMB today.

So everyone think about it carefully, wow, Jason paid 12.5 for two newspapers, so expensive

This is already a cheap newspaper after the British knowledge tax was abolished in 1855. Before that, it might cost 30 yuan to buy a newspaper.

Today you buy a copy of The Times newspaper on the roadside in the UK, the price is around 1 pound to 1.5 pounds, in conversion, 8 yuan to 13 yuan, this does not calculate the purchasing power and income level, only the price

***

small theater

Jason: Something is wrong with this city

Jensen: Standing on the side of the road is always seen

Jason: Forced to pay (not) to buy newspapers + take a car