## Chapter 228: The Fouché of France? No, It’s Hastings of Britain (4K)
**London, Bayswater, 36 Lancaster Gate, Hastings Residence.**
Disraeli sat at the dining table, excitedly tapping the tabletop with his two fingers. This gentleman, who claimed that excellence was his innate nature, finally tasted the sweetness of victory after years of setbacks.
His joy was evident on his face. The man who always tried to perfect his gentlemanly image with a dignified appearance, fashionable clothes, and a cool, taciturn demeanor, transformed into a chatterbox today.
From the moment he stepped into Arthur’s house, he had been talking nonstop.
“Damn it! The first print run of 1,500 copies of ‘The Englishman’ sold out, and we even had to reprint another 1,000 copies! Although this includes the 800 copies distributed for free at the Coburg Theatre as promotional items, it’s still a great victory for a newly launched magazine! I knew it! The reason why my previous publication, ‘The Representative,’ failed was entirely because of that traitorous son-of-a-bitch, Morley. Running a newspaper or magazine is not that difficult!”
Dickens, who was temporarily acting as the accountant for ‘The Englishman,’ bit his pen as he looked at the accounts in front of him. He said, “We’ve not only sold 2,500 copies, but we’ve also received over a hundred applications for annual subscriptions. Perhaps we can start considering hiring a few newspaper delivery boys.”
Arthur, looking at the newspaper, said, “Maybe we don’t need to rush it. I have a certain amount of free postage allowance at the General Post Office every year, and I haven’t used any of it this year. It’s already November, and my allowance should be enough to cover this year’s magazine deliveries.
Next year, if the circulation increases, we can consider using Rothschild’s messenger delivery service. Everyone says that the Rothschild family does the best in delivery besides banking. And we have a shareholding relationship with them, so I believe they’d be happy to take on this order.”
Elder, hearing this, couldn’t help but whistle, “Arthur, can you stop being so petty? The first issue sold 2,500, the next will be 5,000, and the one after that will be 10,000. We’ll be a big magazine soon! Hiring two delivery boys is no big deal!”
Darwin, on the side, couldn’t help but question, “What makes you so confident?”
Elder puffed out his chest proudly, “Of course it’s because of my powerful sales skills! Don’t you know? Out of the 2,500 copies sold in the first issue, 200 were sold by me!”
“Huh?”
Everyone, upon hearing this, put down their work and looked at Elder.
Dickens also quickly flipped through the accounts in his hand. After taking a look, he exclaimed, “That’s true! Mr. Carter sold a total of 262 copies these past few days, almost double the sales volume of the best-selling bookstore!”
Arthur, looking at Elder’s smug face, his butt almost flying to the sky, pondered for a moment before speaking.
“Elder, I thought I had already valued you highly, but now I think back, maybe I still underestimated you. Looking at your ability to sell literary magazines, our London University Classics Department’s education is, to be honest, truly solid. Can you tell me, how did you do it?”
Darwin couldn’t help but look at him with admiration, “I have to admit, Elder, you’ve now surpassed the monkey in my estimation.”
Elder grinned, stood up, placed one hand on his chest, and bowed slightly, “No need to thank me, I’ve merely made a small contribution.”
Alexandre Dumas pulled out a copper coin from his pocket and threw it at Elder’s head, “Stop bragging, tell us how you did it!”
Elder caught the coin, glared at Dumas, “Fatso, I’m in a good mood today, so I won’t bother with you. Next time you act so rudely, I’ll…”
Dumas leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, shaking his legs, “Just tell everyone about that night you were with Miss Coconut Tree at the Coburg Theatre…”
Elder, hearing this, quickly interrupted him, turning to Arthur, “Do you remember that old man who used to sell penny newspapers on the Greenwich Christmas Road that I mentioned to you before?”
Arthur, upon hearing this, simply repeated what Elder had told him before, “From Central Avenue into Christmas Road, walk about 200 feet and turn left. There’s a small alleyway with two chimneys. Every Wednesday afternoon from 3 to 5, as long as it’s not raining, there’ll be a 50-year-old man wearing a gray hat and a black coat…”
Elder smirked, “You really went there?”
Arthur merely shrugged, “Elder, I used to be the superintendent of Greenwich. This kind of vendor selling unstamped newspapers is definitely considered illegal and criminal in the eyes of the police.”
Elder was stunned, “You arrested him? No way, he was still there when I went a couple of days ago!”
Arthur said, “I saw that he was remorseful, so I didn’t make a big deal out of it. But to prevent him from relapsing, I demanded that he report to me every Wednesday for routine checks to confirm his recent criminal activities.”
Elder, hearing this, couldn’t help but exclaim, “Damn, you’re treated better than me!”
Arthur tapped the table, emphasizing, “This is different, Elder, I’m conducting a routine review.”
Dumas nodded, “I’m responsible for routine re-examination.”
“Damn you two.” Elder glared, “You don’t even think of me for this kind of thing. Next time there’s something good, I won’t lend it to you!”
Arthur, seeing the topic veering off track, quickly urged, “Stop talking so much, how did you sell so many magazines?”
Elder, somewhat dissatisfied, tugged at his collar, “Sales, just like the art of debate in Parliament. As a Classics graduate, I have a distinct advantage in rhetoric.
Plus, I have a small network in the industry, knowing a lot of seasoned professionals who have been in the newspaper sales business for many years. I know some secret selling locations that only various enthusiasts know about.
And the articles I’ve personally reviewed and commented on have always been favored by fellow enthusiasts. So, naturally, I don’t act unless I have to, and once I do, it’s a big hit.
I told you guys before, article titles like ‘The Count of Monte Cristo,’ ‘The Pickwick Papers,’ or ‘The Monkey’s Tale’ won’t work in this line. So, to boost sales, I made some reasonable decorations and modifications to the article titles.”
Dumas, hearing this, seemed to gradually understand, “So, what did you change our article titles to?”
Elder snorted, “I think, to sell big, you have to start with the reader’s curiosity and thirst for knowledge. Titles like Count and Duke, because similar subjects have been written about a lot in recent years, there are many cases to refer to. It’s just a matter of adding some love stories, secrets, and so on after their status and position, and it’s enough to make people pay.
And ‘The Pickwick Papers,’ this kind of civilian travelogue story, needs more work from me. The first thing that came to mind was Lord Byron’s unfinished ‘Don Juan.’ As everyone knows, Don Juan is a famous rake in Spanish history, who has been involved with countless noblewomen throughout his life. Even the Spanish like to call a lecher Don Juan.
Lord Byron, using Don Juan as a prototype for adaptation, naturally achieved commercial success. So, to imitate Lord Byron’s successful path, I sold ‘The Pickwick Papers’ as a Don Juan travelogue of Britain. Sure enough, many customers didn’t even listen to my description of the content, they were already eager to pay.
Of course, I’m most proud of my sales pitch for ‘The Monkey’s Tale.’ I didn’t add anything to that, I told them explicitly that it was a科普 story about the relationship between humans and monkeys, and then I gave them a ‘you know what I mean, if you don’t know, it’s useless to explain’ expression.
Although the customers all said they weren’t interested in this, after buying other newspapers, they always ended up saying at the end, ‘Give me another copy of ‘The Englishman,’ I think the cover and packaging are quite exquisite.'”
Darwin, hearing this, looked at Elder with a complex expression, “Elder, I wrote this thing to科普, to get people to abandon ignorance and embrace civilization, but look at what you’ve done!”
Elder shrugged innocently, “That’s right! I told them it was a科普 article, but what good is it if they don’t believe it?”
Arthur said softly, “Elder.”
“What?”
“Just say you graduated from Oxford.”
Elder resolutely refused, “No, no, it’s Cambridge’s turn this month.”
“What about King’s College?”
“King’s College?” Elder scoffed, “Those little brats, take a back seat for now.”
Faced with such a clear-cut and gold-medal salesman, Elder Carter, newspaper editor Disraeli, out of concern for his capable employee, quickly stepped in to smooth things over.
He moved the heavy suitcase at his feet to the table. A click was heard, and the lid of the box was lifted. Stacks of banknotes finally silenced everyone’s mouths.
Disraeli said with a smile, sweat dripping from his forehead, “Everyone, everyone, for the sake of the Bank of England, Barings Bank, and Rothschild Bank, let’s settle the first issue’s royalties.”
When a light and airy check was placed in front of Alexandre Dumas, after a moment of struggle, the weight, light as a feather, finally bent the heavy spine of the French literary giant.
He put the check away in his coat pocket, sighed softly, and confessed to God, “Originally, I planned to refuse, but this amount is really too much.”
Arthur, hearing this, couldn’t help but ask, “Alexandre, are you free tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow night? What’s on the agenda for tomorrow night?” Dumas chuckled, waving the check with both hands, “As long as it doesn’t cost more than this.”
“No, tomorrow night is free.” Arthur rested his two arms on the table, “I think it’s not a solution for you to keep hiding like this. As long as the French government doesn’t revoke the warrant for your arrest, there will always be a few people who want to make a quick buck. So, are you interested in meeting Talleyrand with me?”
“Talleyrand?” Dumas, upon hearing the name, his smile froze on his face, “Why would I meet him? A man who lacks even the most basic moral integrity, I have nothing to talk to him about.”
Arthur, hearing this, just shook his head with a smile, “I don’t know if he has moral integrity or not, and I don’t know. But I know he can help revoke the warrant for your arrest. Alexandre, I know you’re a Romantic writer, but life still has to be realistic. There’s no harm in meeting him with me.”
As soon as Arthur finished speaking, there was a knock on the door.
Dumas, seemingly reluctant to answer Arthur’s question, took the opportunity to stand up and leave the table. After opening the door, a Charles Field, wearing a neat tailcoat uniform, appeared at the door.
Perhaps too excited, Field spoke in a trembling voice, “Is Inspector Hastings at home?”
Arthur’s head popped out from behind Dumas, but before he could ask, Field said with a smile, “Don’t ask, just open it and you’ll know.”
Arthur opened the envelope, and although he had already read the general content from Field’s expression,
But when the documents were laid out in front of him, the stone hanging in his heart finally landed safely.
There were two documents, both with simple and clear titles. One was approved by the Royal Privy Council, and the other was stamped by the Home Office.
*《Regarding the Reorganization of the London Temporary Measurement and Data Statistics Bureau into the London Police Intelligence Bureau》*
*《Regarding the Nomination of Arthur Hastings, Superintendent of the Greater London Police, as the Designated Candidate for the Director of the London Police Intelligence Bureau》*
Dumas, seeing these two documents, just patted Arthur on the shoulder, “Just now, I thought you wanted to be Talleyrand, but now it seems you’re more likely to become Fouché. But personally, I think Fouché is probably worse than Talleyrand.”
Field, hearing this, was stunned, “Fouché? Mr. Dumas, are you talking about your French Minister of Police?”
“Yes.” Dumas said, “Napoleon holds the secrets of France, and Fouché holds the secrets of Napoleon. He and Talleyrand were Napoleon’s right-hand men. Even when they conspired to rebel against Napoleon, they did it together.”
Arthur, hearing this, just shook his head, “Alexandre, I wouldn’t lock up all my opponents and blow them up with cannons.”
“Oh?” Alexandre joked, “Is it because you don’t have cannons?”
“You can interpret it that way if you insist.” Arthur just shook his head with a smile, “So, I’m not the Fouché of France, I’m just Hastings of Britain.”
Dumas, hearing this, just smiled and then put his arm around Arthur’s shoulder, “Hopefully, then I’ll accompany you to meet Talleyrand tomorrow.”
There’s more tonight.
(End of Chapter)