## Chapter 241: The Power of the Brits (6K2)
**London, Westminster, 4 Whitehall Street, Metropolitan Police Headquarters.**
The Scotland Yard was bustling with activity as usual, but the usual crowd of Chief Inspectors who would normally be leisurely sipping tea and reading newspapers in their offices were scarce today.
It wasn’t that the Chief Inspectors had suddenly become diligent, but rather that the situation forced them to act. With a formidable enemy at hand, even if Scotland Yard couldn’t achieve anything concrete, they had to put up a front.
As Chief Inspector Rowan and Arthur had predicted, MP Bernie Harrison, upon his release, had continuously pressured Scotland Yard in Parliament.
To investigate the existence of corruption, misconduct, violation of judicial procedures, and other injustices within Scotland Yard, Parliament was considering whether to follow Harrison’s proposal to establish a special police investigation committee, or even to abolish Scotland Yard and restore the centuries-old local sheriff management model.
Of course, from Arthur’s observation, corruption, misconduct, and violation of judicial procedures were all present within Scotland Yard. Moreover, Arthur could even add a few more charges to Scotland Yard for the investigative committee, and he could even elaborate on these charges.
Most of the senior officers in Scotland Yard engaged in activities such as outsourcing their district prosecution business to certain law firms to gain profit margins, accepting irregular banquets and receiving condolence gifts from industry associations within their jurisdiction in exchange for deploying excessive police force to ensure the safety of stores, and so on.
Among the lower-ranking officers, there were many cases of accepting bribes to release criminals, embezzlement of stolen goods, sale of stolen goods, and accepting funding from certain criminal groups to act as informants, etc.
It could be said that whatever misconduct existed in Scotland Yard was entirely dependent on its authority, and this principle could be applied without reservation to other administrative departments in Britain.
Although Scotland Yard wasn’t exactly a just and incorruptible organization, it was still much more restrained compared to the old sheriff model.
Because many of the problems within Scotland Yard were inherited directly from the sheriff model, at least Scotland Yard now had some clear management regulations. What was right and wrong was clear, and there were corresponding punishment regulations.
More importantly, the magistrates were always itching to get their hands on Scotland Yard for not listening to their orders. After all, the methods that Scotland Yard used to make money were originally theirs and their subordinates, the sheriffs.
As the yet-to-be-born grandson of the famous Whig debater Lord Russell said: “A beggar doesn’t envy a millionaire, but he certainly envies a beggar with a higher income.”
Although magistrates and Scotland Yard weren’t beggars, overall, the social status of senior Scotland Yard officers and magistrates could be placed on the same level.
For this reason, they naturally held the view that “the failure of the magistrates is terrible, but the success of Scotland Yard is even more heartbreaking.” They almost seized every opportunity to pick on Scotland Yard.
Therefore, in the constant tug-of-war between these two groups driven by self-interest, a glimmer of judicial justice was actually emerging.
This trend became even more pronounced after the fall of the Tory Party. These fellows who had ascended to the position of magistrate during the Tory era were almost trying every means possible to make the prosecution represented by Scotland Yard lose in ordinary cases.
Therefore, when the case of MP Harrison emerged, the magistrates, who had been suppressing their frustration for a long time, exclaimed in unison: “Our glorious era is returning!”
Of course, from Arthur’s point of view, the magistrates might have been rejoicing too early.
He carefully savored the arrest warrant for MP Bernie Harrison issued by the Westminster Magistrates’ Court, his peripheral vision intentionally drifting to the signature.
The magistrate who approved the arrest of Bernie Harrison was none other than Mr. George Norton, who had just taken office not long ago.
Although Norton had declared his resignation from the Tory Party half a year ago to secure his position, Arthur wouldn’t believe that Norton didn’t know Bernie Harrison, a fellow supporter of Earl Eldon, as a former member of the Tory hardliner faction.
He quickly picked up another document on hand, which contained some information obtained after talking to Mrs. Norton.
Regarding the description of George Norton’s personality, whether from his former classmate Disraeli or from his wife, who was his pillow partner, Arthur reached the same conclusion.
Mr. Norton was a complete narcissist and a nuisance.
Earlier, Mrs. Norton’s plea to Viscount Melbourne to secure a magistrate’s seat for her husband wasn’t just because of the magistrate’s annual salary of 1,000 pounds. On the other hand, it was also because a jobless George Norton was truly a problem.
If Mr. Norton stayed at home all day, he would focus all his energy on his wife and two children under the age of three. For Mrs. Norton, this was almost disastrous. So, in order to avoid constantly arguing and fighting with her husband, Mrs. Norton tried every means to find something for him to do.
However, ordinary positions wouldn’t catch Mr. Norton’s eye. If it weren’t for her friend Viscount Melbourne, who was the Home Secretary, and Mr. Norton’s father’s foresight in making his son attend the Inns of Court and forcing him to work as a lawyer for seven years in his early years, which just met the minimum appointment requirements for a judge, this problem would have been difficult to solve.
After obtaining the position of magistrate, Mr. Norton expressed his gratitude to his wife and Viscount Melbourne. He not only began to proactively repair his relationship with his wife but also encouraged this relationship.
The couple lived harmoniously for more than half a year, but this harmony began to subtly change when Mr. Norton learned about the establishment of the London District Prosecutor’s Office.
Although Mr. Norton had just lost the election not long ago, his confidence wasn’t affected much. He believed that he deserved the position of Chief Prosecutor of the London District Prosecutor’s Office and began to ask his wife to inquire about the news from Viscount Melbourne.
But this time, Viscount Melbourne politely declined Mrs. Norton’s request. This gentle and occasionally sensitive Home Secretary, although he valued his relationship with Mrs. Norton, didn’t mean he was brainless.
Viscount Melbourne knew very well that the appointment of the Chief Prosecutor had to be approved by the Court of Chancery. However, it was completely impossible for Lord Brougham, the Lord Chancellor, to hand over such an important position to a former die-hard Tory.
Even the previous appointment of Norton as magistrate was just a coincidence due to Arthur’s incident.
Otherwise, it wouldn’t be so easy to get the upper hand from Lord Brougham, who was strong-willed, even somewhat harsh, and who dared to fight against King George IV on behalf of the Queen.
After being rejected by Viscount Melbourne, Mr. Norton quickly reverted to his previous self. His attitude first became indifferent, then erupted like a volcano, followed by constant quarrels and fights.
Mr. Norton threw inkpots and scalding teapots at his wife.
While Mrs. Norton cursed her husband with every vile word she could muster. She insulted the ancestors of the Norton family while emphasizing the glorious tradition of her own Sheridan family.
A self-description of Mrs. Norton recorded by Arthur reflected their relationship very well: “My husband has gradually become a suffocator, a pulmonary constrictor, an iron mask, an interrogator, and everything unnatural. In defiance, I call him a tyrant, and he says I’m a traitor. But he can’t do anything to me. And I have to say, even though he’s a tyrant, he’s still the most incompetent of all the mad tyrants.”
As Mrs. Norton poured out her grievances like a broken dam, Arthur, who was adept at summarizing and organizing information, had basically completed his preliminary investigation into Mr. Norton’s social background, lifestyle, and other aspects.
This investigation led him to discover a very interesting event. Among the numerous examples of Mr. Norton’s inappropriate behavior that Mrs. Norton had cursed him for, she inadvertently mentioned that the two had a heated argument over the education of their children on Wednesday of the previous week.
However, because Mr. Norton was in a hurry to attend a dinner party hosted by Earl Eldon, the argument didn’t escalate to a physical fight.
Intelligence submitted by London Police Intelligence Bureau investigators revealed that Mr. Bernie Harrison was also on the guest list for this dinner party.
What was even more interesting was Mrs. Norton’s description of her husband who returned home drunk: “His shirt was covered in mud, and he couldn’t find a single trace of the decorum of a British gentleman. When I saw him, I thought he was some pig farmer who had just finished work! Thank you, Mr. Harrison, and curse you, Mr. Harrison. If he hadn’t kindly shared a carriage with that tyrant, he would have frozen to death on the roadside.”
Disraeli sat opposite Arthur’s desk, reviewing the documents in his hand while sipping a glass of white wine that shimmered like golden brilliance.
He raised his eyebrows and complimented, “Well, Arthur, I didn’t expect you to have such a refined taste in wine. This sweet white wine from the Château de Sauternes in the Sauternes region is favored by the US President, the Tsar of Russia, the King of France, and many bigwigs in our Britain. I remember the newspaper called this wine what? Liquid gold. This bottle isn’t cheap, is it?”
Arthur rubbed his sore neck, looked up, and saw the Red Devil standing behind Disraeli, who seemed like he wanted to strangle him.
The Red Devil held his face and roared, “Arthur! You little bastard, look at what you’ve done! You let this Jew trample on such a good thing? Make him stop, or I curse you to go to hell!”
Arthur ignored the devil’s protest. He simply said, “I didn’t buy this wine. It was a gift from the Duke of Wellington. According to His Grace, Sauternes white wine needs to be ordered three years in advance. The things they produce there are always in high demand.”
Disraeli took another sip, looked at the clear liquid in his glass, and asked, “Is that so? How much does it cost? If it’s within my budget, maybe I should prepare to order the batch three years from now.”
Arthur lit a cigar with a match, rested one hand on the back of the chair, and blew out a puff of smoke, “It’s not that expensive. It’s worth at most a Belgian throne. To be honest, you’ve already drunk half of Brussels into your belly.”
Disraeli almost sprayed the wine he had just taken into his mouth at Arthur when he heard this.
He pulled out a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped the wine stains from his mouth, “Arthur, I’m talking seriously with you!”
“I’m not lying to you.”
Arthur took two puffs on his cigar, the smoke obscuring his entire face, “You guys are always like this. Whenever I feel a pang of conscience and want to tell you guys some truth, no one believes me. But if I just casually make up some lies, you guys treat it as the truth.”
Disraeli clearly didn’t take Arthur’s words to heart. He asked, “Let’s not talk about this. Why did you suddenly decide to ask Mrs. Norton to contribute? Is it because you’re interested in her close relationship with Home Secretary Viscount Melbourne?”
Arthur didn’t respond to Disraeli’s guess. He always encouraged those who were kept in the dark to use their imagination because the audience would always weave more exciting stories than reality, which could also cover up the crudeness and incompetence shown by the London Police Intelligence Bureau in intelligence gathering.
Arthur said, “It’s always beneficial for future development to know some bigwigs or maintain good friendships with women who are close to them. Anyway, ‘The Brits’ needs to find some articles to fill up the pages. So, who cares who you ask? Not to mention, Mrs. Norton happens to have talent in this area.”
Disraeli rubbed his temples, “You’re right. After half a year of rapid growth, the sales of ‘The Brits’ have now stabilized. Maybe for others, selling 15,000 copies per issue is already a remarkable achievement. But we’re different. We can’t limit ourselves to this meager success. We’re going to be big shots in the future! If we can get ‘The Brits’ included in the government’s daily subscription list, the benefits we’ll get won’t just be financial, but also political!”
Arthur heard this and almost choked on his smoke, taken aback by the overly ambitious plan proposed by his theatrical friend.
Although he knew that his friend’s mind always jumped around, he still didn’t understand where this guy got his confidence to get a magazine focused on entertainment literature included in the government’s subscription list.
To prevent Disraeli, who was extremely action-oriented, from carrying out groundbreaking practical actions in certain aspects and causing some irreversible unknown consequences, Arthur had to quickly pour cold water on him.
Arthur said, “Currently, the government’s subscription publications are mainly focused on current affairs, social news, and political commentary. If one day ‘The Brits’ can demonstrate these three aspects, I believe the government will consider subscribing. But for now, I think a sales volume of 15,000 copies is clearly not representative.”
Disraeli rubbed his head in frustration, “You have a point, but 15,000 copies is already a very large sales base. To continue improving, we’ll have to use some extraordinary methods.”
Arthur calmly said, “Extraordinary methods? I have them! The public is only interested in certain things. As long as you figure out their interests, you can easily control their wallets. Especially for the middle class, who are the main audience of ‘The Brits’, it’s even easier to control them. These guys’ desires are almost out in the open.”
“Oh?” Disraeli straightened his back slightly, leaning forward, “What do you mean?”
Arthur casually pulled out a few newspapers from the stack on his desk, which were also aimed at middle-class readers: ‘The Times’, ‘The Manchester Guardian’, and ‘The Weekly Dispatch’.
This time, before Arthur could even speak, Disraeli shook his head with a sneer, “Come on, Arthur. I’ve already placed ads in these newspapers, and the effect wasn’t as good as I expected.”
Arthur just shook his head, “Benjamin, you’re wrong. I’m not asking you to place ads, and it’s too expensive to advertise in these newspapers with large circulation. More importantly, most readers don’t like to see ads, so you have to make them unaware that it’s an ad.”
Disraeli was confused by Arthur’s words, “What do you mean?”
Arthur took a piece of paper from his drawer and pushed the inkwell towards Disraeli, “Go to these newspapers and place a matrimonial advertisement for a month in a row. As for the content of the advertisement, I’ll tell you what to write.”
Disraeli was completely baffled, “Arthur, you want to get married? You don’t need to do this! A 21-year-old Scotland Yard Chief Inspector, you can easily find a good girl.”
Arthur frowned, “Do you want to increase sales or not?”
Although Disraeli didn’t understand what Arthur was up to, he still obediently picked up the pen and paper. After all, not many people in this world would turn down money, “You tell me.”
Arthur cleared his throat and said seriously, “I am 21 years old, male, six feet tall, with a sunny and handsome appearance, a thick head of hair with no signs of baldness, a gentlemanly demeanor, kind to animals, love music, enjoy literature, own a house near Hyde Park, and have a French chef at home. I currently have a stable job with an annual income of over 500 pounds. I am now looking for a lovely lady similar to Mrs. XXX or Miss XXX described in the novel ‘The Hastings Detective Collection’ by Arthur Sigma, which is serialized in ‘The Brits’, to accompany me for life.”
Disraeli was so shocked when he heard this that he dropped the pen in his hand.
He suddenly stood up, his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, “Arthur!”
Arthur calmly said, “What’s wrong?”
Disraeli couldn’t contain his excitement, “You’re a goddamn genius!”
“Thank you.” Arthur said, “You’re the second guy to say that to me today.”
“Who was the first?”
Arthur calmly said, “The devil.”
“Indeed!” Disraeli’s mouth almost split into a grin, “You’re a goddamn devil!”
Arthur corrected him, “Benjamin, I’m not the devil, the one who praised me is.”
“Alright, alright, I’m the devil. You came up with this idea, what can I do even if I become a devil?”
Seeing that his theatrical friend was already delirious, Arthur didn’t bother clarifying. He said, “So, Benjamin, are you satisfied now? By the way, if things don’t go smoothly, maybe I can release some explosive stuff in ‘The Brits’ later.”
Disraeli was curious, “Explosive stuff? What do you mean?”
Arthur didn’t answer. He just took out his pocket watch and glanced at it, “Before the editorial department closes, maybe you should run to Fleet Street and book the matrimonial advertisement for next month in advance.”
Seeing that Arthur wasn’t saying anything, Disraeli didn’t continue to ask. After all, he was already satisfied with the idea of the matrimonial advertisement today.
He held up two fingers on each hand, pointing at Arthur with a beaming smile, “Oh! Arthur, why book just next month? I’m going to book the month after next as well. This matrimonial advertisement trick is simply brilliant. We can take turns. Listen to this, how about this?”
Disraeli proudly patted his chest, “I am 32 years old, female, five feet four inches tall, widowed, with two kids, beautiful blonde hair, and a well-proportioned, plump figure. I had a happy and harmonious family, but due to the unfortunate death of my husband two years ago, I was left with a large amount of personal property. As a woman, I feel powerless to manage it…”
However, before Disraeli could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by Arthur’s raised hand.
Arthur crossed his fingers and rested his elbows on the desk, “Benjamin, I strongly advise you not to include too many personal kinks in your ad. But I have to admit, you learn quickly. I know there are probably quite a few people who are into that. But I don’t want too many of those people in the readership of ‘The Brits’. It’s not good for getting ‘The Brits’ on the government’s procurement list.”
Disraeli just rolled his eyes when he heard this, “Arthur! Are you saying that the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland is of low class?!”
Arthur, who was drinking tea, sprayed tea all over the floor when he heard this. He looked shocked, “Benjamin, are you sure? Does Earl Grey have a thing for that? I thought he only liked Earl Grey tea.”
“Who told you I was talking about Earl Grey?”
“Is it the Duke of Wellington? That’s not bad. After all, he and Lady Leven…”
However, before Arthur could finish his sentence, he saw Disraeli stand up, proudly tugging at his collar, “Wrong, all wrong! Arthur, I’m talking about the future Prime Minister, Benjamin Disraeli.”
Arthur was stunned for a moment, then calmly wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and slowly opened the desk drawer, “Get out of here.”
“Just kidding, how do you think my joke is? Hahaha! Look at you, your face is all black.”
“Three…”
“Arthur! Are you a sore loser?”
“Two…”
“Arthur…we’re good brothers…”
This time, Arthur didn’t speak. The only sound in the office was the click of the hammer being pulled back.
Disraeli raised his hands, a fake smile plastered on his face, sweat dripping from his forehead, “Okay, okay, I’m going. But can you put the gun down first?”
(End of Chapter)