## Chapter 221: Mendelssohn’s Assistance
The Coburg Theatre was abuzz with a cacophony of voices, a sea of gentlemen and ladies in their finest attire filling the seats according to their pre-booked tickets.
As Arthur had anticipated, tonight’s concert, with its gathering of renowned musicians, had attracted a number of distinguished guests. Even someone with Arthur’s limited social circle could recognize a few familiar faces amongst the crowd.
Though the Coburg Theatre, out of respect for customer privacy, wouldn’t publicly disclose the names of ticket holders, Arthur, aided by the Red Devil, couldn’t care less.
His crimson eyes darted back and forth across the boxes on the second floor, a constant murmur escaping his lips.
“Lady Cowper and Viscount Palmerston are here, that’s no surprise. Mrs. Liven and that old geezer who visited the Russian embassy the other day are here together, and they even have two guards stationed outside their box. That old codger must be Austrian Chancellor Metternich, alright. But… who’s that beside Mrs. Norton? Isn’t she seeing Viscount Melbourne? She’s switching flavors so quickly?”
The Red Devil, lounging on the stage, chomped on an apple and grumbled, “Arthur, are you out of your mind? The person next to Mrs. Norton is obviously her husband, Mr. Norton. You need me to explain even this simple question?”
Arthur, upon hearing this, snapped out of his confusion. He slapped his forehead and chuckled, “I’ve been so overwhelmed by these people’s chaotic relationships lately that I thought everyone was either somebody’s wife or somebody’s husband. But… Mr. and Mrs. Norton are here together, watching a play? Did they reconcile?”
The Red Devil, stretching languidly, let out a mischievous grin. “If your wife could potentially bring you a position with an annual income exceeding a thousand pounds, along with a ton of influence, you’d be kissing her feet too, wouldn’t you?”
Arthur’s crimson glow faded as he uttered, “Now, the question is: I still don’t know the true nature of the relationship between Viscount Melbourne and Mrs. Norton. Besides emotional ties, is there any physical connection between them?”
The Red Devil’s sinister smile deepened. “Oh, my dear Arthur, why bother with such details? Does a physical connection really matter? Don’t get your priorities mixed up. The crucial point is whether people believe there’s no physical connection between them. If they don’t believe it, it exists even if it doesn’t. If they believe it, it doesn’t exist even if it does. Do I need to make things clearer about your human affairs?”
Arthur glanced at the Red Devil, “Agareus, I have to say, your thinking is quite dangerous.”
The Red Devil, unfazed, clasped his hands together and chuckled, “Arthur, don’t jump to conclusions. I’m not saying you have to do this, but you need to figure out a path for yourself. If Viscount Melbourne actually places George Norton in a position that makes you uncomfortable, you’ll need to find a way to remove that obstacle. Think about who he supports. He’s a supporter of former Lord Chancellor Eldon. Think about what Eldon did. Who passed the Six Acts to suppress dissent? Who held back the Royal Charter for the University of London? Why was the Bloody Code repealed with such difficulty? Arthur, are you sure you want to keep such a huge problem for yourself? Look at where you stand. The Coburg Theatre is known for its Shakespearean operas. Have you forgotten the famous line from Hamlet? ‘Oft expectation fails, and most oft there where most it promises; and oft it hits where least it promises.’ People often hide a devilish heart behind a sincere facade and pious actions. And correspondingly, to achieve your sincere goals, sometimes you need to act with devilish force.”
The Red Devil had spoken at length, but sadly, Arthur was becoming immune to his rhetoric.
“Mr. and Mrs. Norton and Viscount Melbourne are already a tangled mess. I’m not interested in interfering in their triangle for now.”
Agareus, unperturbed by Arthur’s refusal of his deal, played with the recently acquired soul gem, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Arthur, I think I need to remind you. The soul you got from the pirate ship is running low. You can’t keep dragging it out like this. You need to consider pulling off a bigger score soon.”
The Red Devil was constantly pressuring him, but Arthur was completely distracted by something else.
He had scanned the entire first and second floors and couldn’t find Vidocq anywhere.
The French detective, known for his elusive nature, was as if he hadn’t come to the Coburg Theatre tonight. But if someone told Arthur that Vidocq wasn’t present, he wouldn’t believe them.
Even if Vidocq and Dumas were truly brothers, the guest list for tonight’s concert alone would be enough to draw Vidocq in, his senses tingling with the scent of intrigue.
After all, French Ambassador Talleyrand couldn’t have brought Vidocq along just for his personal safety, could he?
Arthur, the head of the intelligence department of the Metropolitan Police, had been given a mission to gather information. There was no reason for the French to sit idly by.
Just as Arthur was pondering this, a scattered, chaotic sound of footsteps reached his ears.
He turned his head and saw the musicians of the London Philharmonic Society’s Third Symphony Orchestra preparing to take the stage.
Mr. Cipriani Potter, the opening act for the evening, stood at the foot of the stage, repeatedly rubbing his fingers with his white gloves, trying to make his knuckles more flexible for his performance.
As Arthur was about to continue observing from the front, a kind, familiar, and youthful voice reached his ears from behind.
“Ah, Mr. Hastings, you’re here!”
Arthur turned around and saw Mendelssohn, a year older than him, calling out to him.
Mendelssohn greeted him with a smile and then walked up to him, kindly offering his advice. “The first time on stage is a bit nerve-wracking, but as soon as your fingertips touch the keys, everything around you will become silent. At that moment, you can play your music with peace of mind, no need to worry about anything else. When the performance is over, the applause will be deafening, the flowers will be overflowing, and you just need to bow slightly to acknowledge the audience’s love.”
Arthur responded with a playful tone, “The audience’s love? Being a pianist is a good profession, indeed. I haven’t felt this kind of appreciation from people’s eyes for a long time since joining Scotland Yard.”
“Is that so?” Mendelssohn responded with a jest of his own. “If you consider starting piano training at Scotland Yard, I guarantee that the bad reputation of Scotland Yard officers will be improved in no time.”
As he spoke, Mendelssohn asked, “Speaking of which, aren’t you going backstage to see Mr. Clementi? If you can get a few pointers from him, it will definitely be beneficial for your future musical development. Everyone believes that piano mastery cannot be achieved in isolation. Only through constant interaction with those great pianists can one truly grow. That’s why I travel all over Europe. If Mr. Moscheles hadn’t called me back, I’d probably still be in Lombardy right now.”
“Is that so?” Arthur said. “Lombardy is a good place. I heard from General Codrington of the Royal Navy that their grapes are quite sweet.”
Mendelssohn laughed, “Arthur, you’re such a funny guy. I didn’t go there to eat grapes. I went to exchange skills with the great pianists of the Apennine Peninsula.”
Arthur, upon hearing this, suddenly had a flash of inspiration. He remembered something.
He intentionally steered the conversation, guiding Mendelssohn. “You’ve visited so many places to see masters. Have you been to Paris? In Europe, besides Vienna, Paris has the most vibrant musical atmosphere.”
“Paris? I’m thinking about it,” Mendelssohn nodded with a smile. “If things go well, I might go there next year.”
Arthur nodded slightly. “Felix, you may not know this, but Paris is not only a musical sanctuary, it’s also an incredible place for us cops.”
“Ah!” Mendelssohn exclaimed, clapping his hands. “You’re talking about Mr. François Vidocq, aren’t you?”
Arthur was surprised. “You know him?”
“Of course!” Mendelssohn nodded. “His memoir has been a bestseller in London for the past two years. I bought one and read it. I have to say, his life experiences are far more exciting than sheet music.”
Arthur smiled thoughtfully for a moment before weaving a polished story. “Since you know Mr. Vidocq, Felix, I won’t keep it from you. Actually, I’m here today not only to play for the audience, not only to bid farewell to Mr. Clementi.
The famous François Vidocq, recently arrived in London with the French diplomatic mission. I just made a deal with him. He said he could take something away from me right under my nose, and I don’t believe he’s that magical. To prevent him from succeeding, I’ve practically staked the honor of the entire Scotland Yard.
But my biggest concern is that Mr. Vidocq might strike while I’m on stage. So, could I make a bold request?”
Mendelssohn’s eyes lit up upon hearing this.
Even this future world-renowned classical music master couldn’t escape the human instinct for curiosity, let alone as a young man in his twenties.
Mendelssohn asked, “Of course I’m willing to help, but I can’t do anything besides playing the piano. What can I do to help?”
Arthur smiled and beckoned Mendelssohn closer, whispering a few words in his ear.
Mendelssohn frowned. “This…”
Arthur chuckled, “Felix, if even you can’t do this, I really won’t find anyone else. Oh, no, there might be someone like that in Paris, but it’s too late to ask them now.”
Mendelssohn looked at Arthur’s sincere smile, gritted his teeth for a long time, and finally nodded slowly.
“So be it! Arthur, you’ve staked the honor of Scotland Yard to face Mr. Vidocq. Since that’s the case, I’ll stake my pride as a pianist too. But Arthur, you promise me, you have to win.”
Arthur, upon hearing this, couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. He smiled and said, “I’ll try my best.”
With Mendelssohn’s assurance, Arthur’s heart felt a surge of confidence. He asked, “By the way, what are you planning to play tonight?”
Mendelssohn smiled mysteriously. “You know I’m a devoted follower of Mr. Bach. On such an important occasion as Mr. Clementi’s retirement, I must dedicate to him the grandest piece, the ‘St. Matthew Passion’.”
But Arthur, upon hearing this, simply muttered, “The ‘St. Matthew Passion’? That’s not a good omen…”
(End of Chapter)