## Chapter 116: What Interests Do You Have in Me?
The evening twilight painted the sky with hues of grey as Inspector Clemens, his right cheek still bearing the crust of a healed wound, stood outside the ornate iron gates of a terraced house on the outskirts of London, a gift clutched in his hand. The drizzle began to fall, a gentle, persistent rain.
Although this wasn’t his first visit, a wave of unease washed over him. He hadn’t felt this nervous before.
He offered a timid smile to the butler who stood by the gate. “Do you remember me?”
The butler scrutinized him for a moment, then nodded with a smile. “Of course, Inspector Clemens. Are you just passing by, or are you here to visit the Viscount? I don’t recall the Viscount informing me of your visit.”
Clemens forced a smile, then pulled out his wallet and extracted a banknote, offering it along with the gift. “I know Viscount Palmerston is always busy, but I beg you to inform him that I have urgent matters to discuss.”
The butler accepted the gift and tucked the banknote into his pocket, nodding slightly. “Please wait a moment.”
Clemens watched the butler disappear inside, letting out a sigh of relief. He fumbled for his pipe, wanting a few puffs to calm his nerves. But as he opened the matchbox, he found it empty.
He clenched the matchbox, shut his eyes tightly, and looked up at the drizzle, muttering under his breath, “Damn it!”
A chill ran down his spine, he wasn’t sure if it was from the blood loss or the dreadful state of his mind.
Thankfully, the butler didn’t make him wait long. Soon, his voice echoed from within.
“Mr. Clemens, the Viscount requests your presence.”
Clemens opened his eyes, forcing a smile as he asked the butler, “How is the Viscount’s mood?”
The butler chuckled. “He’s been in a good mood these past few days, most likely because things have been going smoothly for him.”
Clemens breathed a sigh of relief, nodded, and followed the butler towards the drawing-room.
The drawing-room remained unchanged, except for one detail. The mounted stag head on the wall had been replaced with a framed picture.
It wasn’t a fancy oil painting, but a satirical cartoon clipped from a newspaper.
The artistry of the cartoon wasn’t particularly impressive, but its message was thought-provoking. It depicted a vast railway track stretching towards the heavens, with the Duke of Wellington riding atop the locomotive, while a coffin inscribed with the name ‘William Huskisson’ sat inside the carriage.
Beneath the cartoon, the caption read: “Urgent Express Delivery from the Duke of Wellington to God.”
This was likely the reason for Palmerston’s good mood, and the primary reason for Clemens’ unexpected visit.
Clemens stared at the cartoon, lost in thought, until Palmerston’s voice broke the silence.
“The artistic skill is crude, but I must admit that often only such simple and understandable forms can stir the undeveloped minds of the public and simultaneously ignite their abundant and extreme emotions.”
Palmerston, impeccably dressed in a suit and tie, glanced at the clock on the wall. He removed his hat and placed it on the coffee table, then sank into the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable. What is it you want to talk about? I have to attend a banquet later.”
Clemens sat upright on the sofa, cautiously probing, “It seems you already know about the incident during the opening ceremony of the Manchester-Liverpool railway.”
Palmerston nodded, taking a sip of tea. “News travels fast. Mr. Huskisson was unfortunate. I didn’t particularly like him, but such a brilliant talent shouldn’t have met such an end.”
Clemens opened his mouth, hesitated for a moment, then finally mustered his courage. “I… actually, I deliberately didn’t remind Mr. Huskisson. To be honest, his death is partly my fault. I know you’ve been worried about the Huskisson faction returning to the Duke of Wellington’s side, so…”
Palmerston interrupted him, “Clemens, do you know what you’re saying? Mr. Huskisson’s death was an accident, at most, the railway company and Scotland Yard are to blame for their negligence. What does this have to do with me? Are you trying to say that I deliberately orchestrated the murder of a House of Commons leader, a former Secretary of State?”
“No, no, no.” Clemens quickly denied, “Of course, this has nothing to do with you. You always have a good reputation. It’s just that I’ve run into a little problem, so…”
Palmerston fixed his gaze on him for a long time, then nodded slightly, reprimanding him.
“If you have a problem, just say it. Why bring up irrelevant things? Clemens, you’re being so roundabout, it’s not like you at all. You know why I liked using you when I was at the War Office? Because you were a man of action, always executing orders decisively, without any extraneous thoughts.”
Clemens broke out in a sweat, “Yes, it’s my fault, please forgive me.”
Palmerston shifted his gaze away from his face, leaning back on the sofa and taking a sip of tea. “Alright, tell me what the problem is.”
Clemens gathered his courage and said, “To be honest, I may have pushed Fred a bit too hard to complete your instructions. He wrote a report about some of my actions and sent it to Scotland Yard. Superintendent Rowan was furious because of the train accident and the report, so he’s forcing me to resign.”
Palmerston took a deep breath, rubbed his face, and asked, “Clemens, I didn’t mention Fred, and you still dare to bring him up? I asked you to ensure Fred safely transported the Frenchman back to Paris, where did all your efforts go?”
“I…” Clemens sweat profusely, “Viscount, it’s complicated. I was going to personally oversee this matter, but you don’t know, I was suddenly assigned to Manchester the night before the operation to handle the opening ceremony. Besides, even if I didn’t get Fred’s business done, at least I put some effort into Mr. Huskisson’s matter…”
Palmerston slammed his fist on the coffee table, snorted, and pointed at Clemens, “If you really have something to do with Mr. Huskisson’s death, then I suggest you confess to Scotland Yard immediately. The life of a prominent politician is not a game!”
“Then what about Fred?”
“What does Fred have to do with me?” Palmerston asked with a smile, “Clemens, have you forgotten what I told you the last time we met? There are no eternal friends, only eternal interests. What interests do I have in Fred’s matter?”
“But you previously asked me to ensure Fred…”
“Oh, is that right? I don’t recall such a thing. Clemens, you’re an Inspector of Scotland Yard, so you should know that all investigations require evidence. And did Fred transport the Frenchman? He didn’t even transport the man, he died at sea himself. Are you going to drag his body to court?”
“I…” Clemens clenched his fists, “So you’re not willing to come forward and protect me?”
Palmerston asked, “Not just for me, but for everyone, the only measure of whether to protect someone is their importance, not what they wanted to do but didn’t accomplish. Clemens, if you want to protect yourself, the best way is to increase your own value.
Besides, I can’t intervene in Scotland Yard’s affairs. Don’t forget, although I still have many old acquaintances in the Tory Party, I am ultimately a Whig Member of Parliament in opposition.”
Clemens understood Palmerston’s stance.
He didn’t want to argue with him further, so he stood up and bid farewell.
“Then, goodbye, Viscount. Have a good time at the banquet tonight.”
As Clemens turned to leave, he found Palmerston’s hand on his shoulder.
Palmerston smiled, pacing towards him, “Taylor, don’t be angry. When something happens, someone has to take responsibility. If you try to fight Superintendent Rowan head-on, it won’t end well. You’re just an Inspector of Scotland Yard, there’s nothing worth clinging to.
Go home and rest for a while, a few months, maybe a year. I assure you, when the Whigs come to power, I will fulfill my previous promise and transfer you to the Ordnance Board. Take this time to cultivate yourself, reflect on the gains and losses of your time at Scotland Yard. It will be beneficial for your future development.”
Clemens heard this, turned around, and asked, “Are you serious? What interests do you have in me?”
Palmerston chuckled, “Not really interests, just a bit of insignificant old sentiment. After all, you did help me out during the Peterloo Massacre. You’re not incapable, you just lack a bit of thoroughness in your work. So I’ll definitely need you in the future.”
Clemens remained silent for a moment, then finally nodded slowly.
“Alright, I believe you. This time, let Rowan win. I’ll submit my resignation.”
Palmerston shook his head slowly, “How can Rowan win? Even if you resign, the vacant position won’t fall into the hands of his subordinates!”
“You mean?”
Palmerston picked up the newspaper from the table and threw it at Clemens.
He said calmly, “The one who’s hogging the limelight this time is Peel’s protégé. He uses the same methods, just like I used to cultivate you.”
(End of Chapter)