SGB Chapter 311

## Chapter 311: A Special Treatment for a Sudden Illness

The laboratory room was quite spacious, furnished with only a Faraday cage, making it appear quite simple. However, perhaps the room wasn’t always so austere. At least from the unburnt remnants of cloth ash along the window sill, it seemed that there used to be curtains hanging here.

Inside the Faraday cage, a workbench and various experimental materials and components were neatly arranged.

As for the central figure of this incident, Mr. Charles Wheatstone, his appearance today was significantly different from usual.

The electronic wind generated by the strong electric current swirled within the cage, whipping Wheatstone’s hair into a wild dance, making it appear as if each strand stood up individually.

The usually quiet and reserved British gentleman, known for his gold-rimmed spectacles, was a far cry from his former self. He clutched a resistor in one hand and an ammeter in the other, his foot resting on a stool, and he couldn’t stop laughing wildly at those gathered around him.

“You bastards! You dare! Don’t blame me for not warning you. Today, even if God himself came down, he wouldn’t be able to get me out of this cage!”

Dumas and the others were speechless, their eyes wide with astonishment. They stared at Wheatstone, who was spewing obscenities, utterly baffled at how the gentle gentleman could act in such a manner.

Where did the shy, bespectacled man they knew go?

Arthur remained silent for a moment, removing his pipe and exhaling a puff of smoke. He turned to the apprentice standing beside him and asked, “How long has Mr. Wheatstone been exhibiting these symptoms?”

The apprentice, rubbing his temples in distress, replied, “About a week now. Ever since he discovered this cage, he hasn’t been able to calm down.”

Another apprentice sighed, “Medical journals say that hysteria is only a disease women suffer from. But it seems the doctors are wrong. Gentlemen can catch this illness too.”

“Hysteria?” Dumas exclaimed in surprise. “Mr. Wheatstone has contracted this disease? This… he is truly unfortunate.”

The apprentice nodded, “We even invited a doctor from the Bethlem Royal Hospital to examine him a few days ago. The doctors thought Mr. Wheatstone might be suffering from excessive mental stress, and that he would recover after some rest. But to our surprise, Mr. Wheatstone’s condition didn’t improve after a few days, it actually worsened. Every day, he would lock himself in the cage early in the morning. After we fell asleep, he would sneak out. He would curse at anyone who passed by the laboratory. This morning, everyone was fed up, so we notified the Bethlem Royal Hospital. They sent a carriage to the Royal Society to pick him up several times, but we couldn’t get Mr. Wheatstone out of the cage no matter what.”

Hearing this, Wheatstone immediately widened his eyes and yelled angrily, “You bloody fool! I’ve never been sick! My current condition is better than ever! You’re the ones who are sick, you’re all bloody sick!”

The apprentice sighed, “Look, gentlemen, he’s at it again.”

Louis’s expression suddenly turned strange. To keep up with the pace of Scotland Yard’s investigations, he had been self-studying medical knowledge. He was, of course, familiar with hysteria, a disease considered highly prevalent among women by doctors.

Louis subtly asked, “This… I heard that treating hysteria in women usually involves… well… doctors using their hands to release their mental stress. Usually, doctors would first ask the husband to do it, and if that doesn’t work, they would then involve a professional like a doctor. But if it’s a man who’s sick… Can I ask a rather delicate question? What exactly does the Bethlem Royal Hospital intend to do to treat Mr. Wheatstone?”

Dumas, as a seasoned veteran of the pleasure industry, immediately grasped the meaning behind Louis’s words. He slapped his palm and exclaimed, “No wonder Mr. Wheatstone contracted this ailment. It turns out it’s a problem he bottled up! Truly, heroes think alike. Although I only know some battlefield first aid, and I have no experience in medical diagnosis, I did advise Mr. Wheatstone before his illness. He needs some emotional nourishment.”

Hearing this, Heine, with a mixture of sorrow and sadness, couldn’t help but speak up, “Alexander, although love is beautiful, I must say that most love doesn’t bring happiness. It doesn’t cure any disease, it only stings like a rose.”

Dumas obviously disagreed with Heine’s views. As a bestselling author who has practically lived in the river of love with countless lovers, his mindset was completely different from Heine, a failure in unrequited love.

However, out of respect for his friend, Dumas ultimately didn’t point out Heine’s heartbreak.

After all, not everyone could remain optimistic after being rejected by two cousins. Although Dumas intended to impart some love advice to his friend, it was clearly not the right time.

He turned to Arthur and accused him, “Arthur, I think you bear full responsibility for Mr. Wheatstone becoming like this.”

“Me?” Arthur raised an eyebrow slightly, “You mean I set the work targets for Charles too high? Please, he hasn’t worked for two months. He’s been obsessed with deciphering love letters and acting as an emotional advisor and confidant. Most importantly, this task wasn’t assigned by me.

Do you think I’m interested in all the mushy lovey-dovey stuff in the “Yearning Column”? An Oxford student is planning to elope with a girl he just met, a priest in a certain area seems to have several mistresses, the youngest son of Earl XX is pursuing a lady who could be his mother. What good does knowing all this do me?”

Louis, hearing this, smiled and praised, “Sir, although this is useless, I still have to say, your memory is amazing.”

Arthur, upon hearing this, choked on the smoke he had just inhaled.

He coughed repeatedly, his nostrils and mouth both emitting puffs of air, “Louis, you’re being deliberate, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m sincere.” Louis smiled and replied, “I used to hear people say that our archived documents are all stored in your head, and I didn’t believe it. But now it seems everyone was telling the truth.”

Arthur pursed his lips and replied, “That’s because you haven’t met our other employee. He’s currently at sea. When he comes back, you can chat with him if you have time. You might even get some useless information about interspecies communication.”

Seeing that the conversation was about to shift towards Eld’s affairs, Dumas quickly brought the topic back, “Arthur, I wasn’t talking about the work pressure you put on Mr. Wheatstone. It’s about that crackdown on prostitution that you guys at Scotland Yard have been carrying out recently. Now, where are we going to find an experienced lady to treat Mr. Wheatstone?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow and retorted, “Alexander, do you dare to assure me that you’re not mixing in any personal motives when you say that?”

Dumas looked righteous, “Of course! My life is filled with love, but Mr. Wheatstone is clearly different. That’s why he needs to solve his problems with money. The only thing to be thankful for is that Mr. Wheatstone can at least solve his problems with money. If it were Mr. Carter in the cage today, things would be very different. His needs are simply too diverse. I think we might as well send him into the London Zoo with the cage.”

Louis glanced at Wheatstone standing in the cage and subtly suggested to Arthur, “We’ve not only been cracking down on prostitution, but we’ve also confiscated several batches of illegal publications. Do you think if we gave a few of them to Mr. Wheatstone, it might help alleviate his condition?”

Before Arthur could even respond, Dumas jumped in with a question, “What good stuff did you get?”

“Shhh! Keep it down!”

Louis placed a finger to his lips, looking around until he was sure the apprentices weren’t paying attention. Then he whispered, “Nothing new, mostly reprints of old works. Like Corley’s “Fanny Hill: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure”, Roger Fekewell’s “Maryland”, John Cleland’s “Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure”, and a collection of novels. The title is quite long, I remember it being called “Rare Truths: Venus’s Cabinet Opened, and Her Secrets Exposed”.”

Dumas exclaimed in surprise, “Scotland Yard really did a sensational thing this time! Those books you mentioned are hard to find on the market. They seem to have all been banned from publication by the church and the government, and even the authors have been in prison, haven’t they? Even Eld, that bastard, doesn’t have a complete collection of those high-end goods. He only has a copy of “Maryland”.

I still remember the descriptive language in it, truly masterful. Like “that looked to be of great radius… larger than anyone else’s”, or “the land needs to be carefully cultivated”. If you hadn’t read the context, who would have thought it was an erotic novel? I thought Cavendish was measuring the earth’s radius.”

As soon as Dumas finished speaking, the apprentices, who had been listening with ears pricked up, gathered around awkwardly, “Gentlemen, we heard you talking about Cavendish? To be honest, we’re also interested in the earth’s radius.”

Seeing that the crowd was getting bigger, Arthur quickly warned, “Scotland Yard’s cells are full these days, and Parliament doesn’t seem to be willing to allocate a large sum of money to build more detention rooms in the near future. So you’d better not submit housing applications to us anytime soon. Why cause trouble for both parties?”

The apprentices, hearing this, could only leave dejectedly.

But Dumas, seeing everyone leave, persisted. He pulled out an employee ID card from the Police Intelligence Bureau and slapped it in Arthur’s hand, “Have you forgotten? I also work for Scotland Yard! As a staff member, I should have the right to inspect contraband, right? At least let me finish reading “Maryland”. Eld’s only has the first half, the second half has been torn up by some bastard.”

Arthur simply refused, “Alexander, if it were any other time, I could agree to your request. But not these days. Things are being scrutinized closely. If the heat dies down, you can read it however you want. But if you can’t hold it any longer, I suggest you go to Bond Street and find Mrs. Berkeley. Scotland Yard doesn’t dare to investigate her shop. You can go there for an offline experience.”

“Why?” Dumas furrowed his brow, puzzled, “Is there something special about this Mrs. Berkeley? Why would a Scotland Yard inspector give her a special recommendation?”

Louis helped explain, “Strictly speaking, Mrs. Berkeley wasn’t recommended by Inspector Hastings, but by Scotland Yard’s Inspector Matherwell.”

Heine asked, “Why are you emphasizing this point?”

Louis sighed helplessly, “Because not everyone can accept Mrs. Berkeley’s services. To be honest, Inspector Matherwell is a veteran of the 58th Regiment of Foot, “Steelback”, in Britain. The reason why the 58th Regiment has this nickname is because the regimental commander has a long tradition of flogging. Almost every soldier who served there has tasted the sting of the cat-o’-nine-tails.

And Inspector Matherwell… well… how do I put it? Although he has retired from the army, he still misses the adrenaline rush of his service days. Every time Inspector Matherwell goes to Mrs. Berkeley’s, he says he feels full of energy, like he’s twenty years younger. He’s back to being that twenty-year-old lad with whip marks all over his back. Even his work seems refreshed.”

“Oh…” Dumas, upon hearing this, couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow and comment, “I understand. So, Mrs. Berkeley provides “British vices”. Before I came to Britain, I heard that you people all have a taste for this. Now I see it with my own eyes. But you let Mrs. Berkeley off the hook just for the special preferences of a Scotland Yard inspector. The level of favoritism in your Scotland Yard seems to have gone up a notch lately.”

Arthur replied, “Alexander, if you think that, you’re wrong. It’s not Inspector Matherwell who influences Scotland Yard’s judgment. He doesn’t have that much weight. Legally speaking, Mrs. Berkeley is mostly just whipping, or letting her customers whip. Yes, I mean real whips, not anything else. If she’s just doing that business, it’s not illegal. Besides, even if she wanted to do something else, she could easily get a legal license.

Perhaps it’s a problem with the British education system. Our big shots have all received a significant amount of corporal punishment at school, so some of them are like Inspector Matherwell, they’ve fallen in love with this feeling. That’s the main reason why Scotland Yard doesn’t bother Mrs. Berkeley. She has too many people who have Scotland Yard by the throat, even some members of the Royal Family.

And this lady isn’t short of money. Last year, she invented a device called “Berkeley’s Horse”. Last year alone, it sold for £2,000. So, in normal circumstances, Scotland Yard can only show some respect to this wealthy and influential lady.”

Hearing this, Dumas couldn’t help but turn to Mr. Wheatstone, “Then in my opinion, why don’t we arrange something fresh for Mr. Wheatstone today?”

Arthur just smiled, “Why bother? London isn’t the only place where Mrs. Berkeley can whip. There are also professionals among Scotland Yard’s officers. It’s just…”

Louis joined in with a laugh, “Unfortunately, our techniques aren’t as professional as Mrs. Berkeley’s. But luckily, we still have Inspector Matherwell. He not only likes to be whipped, he also knows how to whip. Although he’s been retired for years, he hasn’t lost his old skills from the 58th Regiment. Inspector Matherwell often says that he can whip a donkey to death with ten lashes.”

Dumas shuddered at the thought. He imagined the scene: a dark interrogation room, a burly, bare-chested man, steam rising from his shoulders, iron chains, and a cat-o’-nine-tails.

While thinking about new material for his novels, Dumas couldn’t help but shiver twice.

Just as he was about to persuade Arthur to spend some money on Wheatstone, he realized that Arthur was gone.

Immediately, a thud was heard. It was the sound of the circuit breaker being turned off.

The lightning in the laboratory room vanished almost instantly. Arthur, with his pipe in his mouth, strolled over to the Faraday cage and stood before it.

He glanced at Wheatstone hiding inside the cage, reached into his pocket with two fingers, and pulled out a handkerchief, tossing it onto the iron wall of the cage. The cage, maintaining a high temperature from being energized for a long time, instantly ignited the handkerchief.

As the flames burned, Arthur’s words followed.

“Charles, as a friend who cares about you, I have two suggestions. You can consider them as you see fit.

First, come out of the cage yourself, and I’ll take you to the hospital to see if you’re really going mad. Although I don’t think there’s anything like hysteria, if you really have some needs you can’t solve yourself, then I can take you to the Blue Stockings Society gathering next week and introduce you to some well-mannered and beautiful ladies. After all, judging by your current condition, you can now speak normally in front of them.

Second, if you don’t come out, I’ll officially arrest you right here on behalf of the Metropolitan Police on charges of arson. But I’m lucky to inform you that due to the efforts of all sectors in Britain last year, according to the newly passed “Assault on the Person Act”, only arson committed in military industrial areas like the Royal Dockyard is subject to hanging. So, don’t worry about your neck being hung on the gallows. Considering that the loss is only a handkerchief, you’ll be sentenced to no more than three years of hard labor.

Charles, do me a favor and come out of the cage. The London District Attorney’s Office is about to be established. I don’t want the first case I handle after becoming the police representative to be convicting my most scientifically-minded friend.”

(End of Chapter)