## Chapter 209: The Old Rogue
**The setting:** Arthur’s residence in Lancaster Gate, Bayswater.
**The scene:** Arthur, with Dumas and Eld, is desperately trying to translate a letter from the Russian embassy.
“Arthur, are you even trying? If you can’t do it, let me have a go. This is your job, for God’s sake! Show some initiative, will you?” Eld urged, his face practically pressed against the letter.
“I understand a bit of German,” Dumas chimed in. “Let me try, maybe I can be faster.”
Arthur glanced at the two impatient men, calmly working on the translation and saying, “Do you two have nothing better to do? I’ve been swamped with Scotland Yard files, but I haven’t seen this level of concern from you guys.”
Eld retorted, “That’s different, you said your files were top secret. We didn’t want to make things difficult for you. Come on, man, don’t you understand our good intentions?”
Dumas nodded in agreement. “That’s right, I don’t usually care about your English shenanigans, but this involves Russia and Austria. I thought it was necessary to take a break from my busy schedule to learn about it.”
Agareus, sitting on the side with his legs on the table, blew a whistle. “Look at that, the mundane concerns of humans. They might not know who the new Prime Minister is, but they’ll go out of their way to find out if someone’s having an affair.”
As Agareus said, the reason Dumas and Eld were glued to Arthur was this letter from the embassy.
Initially, Arthur thought it was a vital piece of intelligence.
But then he realized that Pinkerton, the little rascal, had actually hit the jackpot. He had managed to snag a document from the Russian embassy, but unfortunately, it turned out to be a love letter from Austrian Chancellor Metternich to Madame de Lieven.
Normally, such personal items would be kept safely by Madame de Lieven. But perhaps because her old flame had come to meet her, she had taken out the letter to reminisce about their past.
This romantic reunion had, however, caused Arthur a lot of trouble. After all this time at the embassy, he only managed to get this useless piece of paper that only confirmed the affair between Metternich and Madame de Lieven.
Thankfully, he had a backup plan. He would send someone to the embassy again during the Sunday concert. Next time, Arthur would prove that the London Bureau, under his management, had some value beyond investigating extramarital affairs.
After much effort, Arthur finally finished translating the love letter, but before he could even read it, Eld snatched the translation.
Eld, full of literary flair, read it aloud with passion.
“On the twenty-second of October, we first met at the house of N. I saw in you that day a quickness of apprehension, a sagacity, which no other woman has ever approached. Many have praised the judgment of women, but in my eyes they are mere nothings compared to you.”
Dumas grabbed the letter from him, using his deep baritone, the voice of a former tenor, to read.
“On the twenty-sixth, we had our first common opinion on a matter of no moment. Do you remember my first inquiry, whether you would be my travelling companion? You deprived me of my seat in the carriage, and how can one be so inconsiderate to a man? I was not pleased. But we conversed afterwards with great freedom, and I was charmed by your kindness and simplicity.”
Eld continued, “On the twenty-seventh, I found you already in high spirits. I therefore proposed to you that we should change carriages, that I might be with you. I am gradually persuaded of the truth of what people say about you, that you are most charming. My pride does not permit me to admit this in the presence of other men, but my honesty compels me to declare that they are right.”
Dumas chanted, “On the twenty-eighth, I paid you my first formal visit. When I got home, I felt as if I had known you always. I did not complain of the slovenly appearance of the two gentlemen in your house, perhaps from a feeling of sympathy, I rather liked it.”
Eld took Dumas’ hand, looking deeply into his eyes, “On the twenty-ninth, I did not see you.”
Dumas looked out the window, his voice filled with sadness, “On the thirtieth, I felt how dull and cold the preceding day had been. My dear Dorothea, from this day forth I knew that the burning heart within my breast belonged to you…”
As soon as he finished, Arthur calmly picked up his teacup and asked, “Eld, as the leading literary critic in Britain, please summarize the thoughts and feelings expressed in this letter. I’ll need it for my report to the Duke of Wellington.”
Eld, holding the letter, put a hand on his forehead and sighed, “I, I want to be Madame de Lieven’s dog!”
Arthur replied calmly, “Eld, it’s not Christmas yet. Save your wishes for next month.”
“Arthur! You bloody…” Eld roared, his face red with anger. “You asked me to summarize! I’m not making a wish!”
Dumas nodded in agreement. “That’s true, you wouldn’t get that wish anyway.”
“Alexander!” Eld, enraged, lunged at Dumas.
Dumas, obviously expecting this attack, backed away, knocking open the door and running. Eld, true to his Royal Navy tradition of relentlessly pursuing French ships, chased after him.
The Red Devil couldn’t help but laugh, slapping the table and wagging his tongue. “Arthur, you heard it yourself. This is the great Metternich, who dictates Austria’s fate and has been a major player in Europe for decades. A man who can be reduced to grovelling like a dog after being rejected by a woman, yet he becomes a European power player. What’s impossible for you, you rare and vile bastard?”
Arthur took a sip of his tea.
“Agareus, you don’t need to flatter me like that. It doesn’t matter if I can be Metternich or not, and I won’t underestimate him because of this love letter. After all, humans have emotions, it’s normal.
What did Lord Byron say? To love for being loved, is human. To love for love’s sake, is divine. Well… maybe bringing up Lord Byron here isn’t the best idea, considering his own personal life was a mess. But the meaning is the same.”
The Red Devil leaned back in his chair, flicked his finger, and a gust of wind sent the love letter to his fingertips. “But jokes aside, what are you going to tell Wellington? Are you going to say you worked your tail off and finally caught Madame de Lieven and Metternich red-handed?”
Arthur folded his arms. “I don’t think I need to inform the Duke of Wellington about this. Isn’t there a rumor circulating about him and Madame de Lieven being… intimate? Hmm… come to think of it, maybe getting Metternich’s love letter wasn’t such a bad thing after all. If I had gotten Wellington’s, I wouldn’t know how to face him.”
The Red Devil chuckled. “What’s there to be afraid of? You were so natural in the face of Lord Melbourne and Lady Norton at the Almack’s Club the other day.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “That’s different. Lord Melbourne and Lady Norton are still physically innocent, at least for now.”
The Red Devil rubbed his hands mischievously. “Oh! My dear Arthur, are you saying you don’t care about the mental part?”
Arthur knew the Red Devil was up to something. He replied, “Of course not, but Agareus, you know, I’m a Scotland Yard policeman. We need evidence, we’re not the Tsar’s Third Department. You can be exiled to Siberia just for having rebellious thoughts.”
Agareus chuckled. “But… my dear Arthur, isn’t the matter of infidelity something that you, an outsider, can’t judge? You’re not involved, so you have no right to speak.”
Arthur, who was about to take a sip of his tea, paused.
He furrowed his brow, staring intently at the Red Devil, asking, “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing much.” Agareus laughed. “I was just chatting with you, and stating a fact.”
Arthur looked at him for a long time, but he couldn’t figure out what the Red Devil was referring to.
As far as he knew, there were many people involved in extramarital affairs, and one person could be involved in several affairs.
Instead of dwelling on these irrelevant matters, he should focus on resolving the pressing London meeting.
While he had the Duke of Brumham backing him, the decision to dissolve the London Bureau was still in Lord Melbourne’s hands. Even if they didn’t dissolve it, he still needed the Home Office to fund the bureau.
Currently, he no longer had jurisdiction over specific police districts, and his criminal investigation department was a small unit of only four people, so the office budget was tight.
Even for the future development of the London Bureau, Arthur needed to show Lord Melbourne, and the entire cabinet, the value of the bureau. This was crucial for getting funding.
Arthur held Metternich’s love letter, reading it over and over, until his eyes landed on the signature, and he suddenly picked up a faint, almost imperceptible, hint.
— 28, written in Brussels.
Brussels, the capital of Belgium?
Arthur stroked his chin, pondering. He couldn’t escape the Belgian issue.
Madame de Lieven must have received many love letters from Metternich, but the fact that she chose to reminisce with this particular letter today was clearly intentional.
Was she trying to use the memory of the letter to pry information about Austria’s stance on Belgium’s independence from Metternich?
Arthur’s eyes suddenly stopped on a section of the letter.
— Our correspondence should be extensive, everything that you do not know in one month, you can see in my letter. Your knowledge of me will always be greater than anyone else’s, at any time. I hold you close, you are my very essence. Nothing in the world, no beauty or happiness, can replace you. Dorothea, my happiness is you, you are my happiness.
Arthur muttered, “If this isn’t the old rogue’s sweet talk, then maybe Madame de Lieven really can pry something out of him.”
He couldn’t help but rub his temples, “Your Grace, if you had even a third of Metternich’s skill in writing love letters, you wouldn’t need me to snoop around for you.”
(End of Chapter)