## Chapter 242: Cutting-Edge Technology in Law Enforcement (4K)
London at night was always a dangerous place. As the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, the wise citizens of London would wisely retreat to their homes, seeking a meager sense of security. Meanwhile, the foolish and fearless drunkards would just be starting their nightly revelry.
If you were looking for a foolproof business venture in 19th century London, opening a cheap tavern was certainly a top choice.
Of course, to build a good relationship with their patrons, tavern owners had to possess certain qualities similar to their guests. If these qualities weren’t foolishness, then they could only be a reckless disregard for one’s life.
The tavern owner with the most reckless disregard for his life in all of London was undoubtedly Judd Martin, the owner of the Whitechapel Martin’s Beerhouse.
As usual, just an hour after the tavern opened, the almost daily drama unfolded.
A customer, drunk as a skunk, stood on a stool with a raised glass, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Eve… everybody look at me, I’m gonna tell you the truth!”
The other patrons turned their attention to him, their faces flushed with an unhealthy red, their eyes blinking with drunken haze.
“What do you wanna say, mate?”
“You…burp…are you gonna announce you’re a moron?”
“I’m tired of that joke, if you keep saying that old chestnut, I’m gonna punch you right in the jaw.”
The customer just burped and said, “I’m gonna tell you, all lawyers are morons! I gave them so much money, but I still lost my case! They’re a bunch of real London thugs!”
One customer, who had been completely wasted, suddenly propped himself up on the table, straightening his back, “Sir, you… I demand you retract your words, I won’t allow you to insult me, you’re spitting out bullsh*t!”
“What’s wrong? Are you a lawyer?”
“No!” The customer burped, throwing his tattered cap to the floor, “I’m a f*cking London thug.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the tavern erupted in laughter, with a few sounds resembling a donkey braying.
Just then, the tavern’s gate was pushed open, Arthur, in a black coat, walked in, a pipe clenched between his teeth. He frowned, glanced at the room, and asked Martin, “Got a new dish on the menu? I thought Londoners didn’t eat donkey.”
Martin, seeing his patron, hurriedly put down the beer mug he was wiping and greeted him, “Mr. Hastings, what are you talking about? We have something good, don’t we have to reserve it for you? At this time of day, where can I get you a Scotsman?”
He took Arthur’s coat, and quickly shouted to the back kitchen, “Annie! Annie! Mr. Hastings is here, get everything ready, send it to the second floor!”
Arthur didn’t rush upstairs, but leaned against a pillar on the first floor, observing the tavern patrons.
Sure enough, he soon spotted a few familiar faces. He casually called out a few names, “Brown, Taylor, Wilkins, you three keep yourselves clean, don’t get into any trouble. Scotland Yard hasn’t been having a good time lately, if you run into trouble, don’t blame me for not warning you. Although your big sis probably already gave you the order, but I think it’s best to emphasize it again, you understand?”
The three thugs leaned on the table, raising their hands slightly, but judging by their glazed eyes, they probably weren’t listening.
Arthur saw this, just exhaled a puff of smoke, “Hopefully you don’t regret it until you’re on the deportation ship, you’re too old to win over the jury’s sympathy.”
With that, he stepped onto the stairs and entered the private room on the second floor.
There, an old friend was waiting for him.
As soon as he stepped into the room, Arthur saw a bulky machine sitting on the table, and a haggard-looking Wheatstone sitting beside it.
Arthur spread his arms and laughed, “Charles, my most reliable chief scientific advisor for the London Police Intelligence Bureau, I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Although the delivery date is a full six months later than we expected, at least you finally conquered the technical hurdle and brought it to me when I needed it most.”
Wheatstone sighed, “If I knew this thing would be so hard to make, I wouldn’t have taken your order. This thing is so complex, it’s not even on the same level as the phonograph, I spent three or four months cramming electromagnetism just to get this done. But luckily, the theories you put forward were correct, so I was able to get it done by the deadline.
But Arthur, I have to remind you, this thing is much more expensive than a phonograph, and because it converts sound into electromagnetic signals, the wire used in this wire recorder has to be extremely pure. In other words, this thing is not going to be widely available to the public in the short term.”
Wheatstone thought Arthur would be furious when he heard this, but instead of getting angry, Arthur nodded in satisfaction, “Good job, Charles, that’s exactly what I want.”
Wheatstone was taken aback, after a long pause, he tilted his head and asked with a frown, “Arthur, is something wrong with your head? You wanted to make the most profit from the concert, secretly recording those musicians’ exclusive records. How come you don’t care about the commercial interests of the product now?”
Arthur walked up to the recorder, which was almost half a meter tall, stroking his chin and examining it up and down, muttering, “Although this thing is a bit big, it’s probably impossible to sneak it into any place, but luckily, not many people know about it…”
Wheatstone heard this, his hairs stood on end, he finally understood what Arthur wanted him to make this thing for.
Wheatstone stammered, “A… Arthur, you… you wouldn’t… that’s illegal!”
Arthur just smiled slightly, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “Charles, is there any law in Britain that prohibits recording?”
“This…” Wheatstone’s brain short-circuited, he pondered for a moment, then his heart skipped a beat, “This… there really isn’t… the recorder is just invented, how could there be legislation? But… to be honest, it’s still unethical!”
Arthur pulled up a chair and sat down, picked up the teapot on the table and poured himself a cup, “Unethical? Oh, my dear Charles, I don’t know when you found a place to be a priest. Besides, don’t you want to hear what I’m going to record with it?”
Wheatstone asked, “What are you going to record with it?”
Arthur took a sip of tea, “Of course, it’s some private recordings that are not suitable for public release.”
“Isn’t that unethical?”
Arthur gently shook his finger, “Charles, you can’t say that. In our York countryside, there’s a saying – you can’t pee in the bowl you eat from, because you’ll have to use it yourself. This saying is a bit crude, but the truth is that. If I told you now that the London Police Intelligence Bureau might be disbanded for lack of this recording, and your research funding would be lost, what would you do, sir?”
“This…” Wheatstone was suspicious, “Is it that serious?”
Arthur smiled back, “Oh, Charles, you’re very lucky, you’re a scientist, not a Scotland Yard cop. So you don’t know what kind of trouble we’re in now, you don’t have to worry about it, but…”
Arthur had just said this when there was a knock on the door.
Then, a voice, sweet as honey, came from outside, “Mr. Hastings, my darling, you invited me over so late, it seems you’ve come to your senses? You’ve finally realized I’m worth two hundred pounds?”
Arthur simply pointed at the back of him, “See, Charles, what did I tell you, this is what I face every day.”
Wheatstone just swallowed, “Is that so? Why do I think it’s actually quite tempting? But what’s the two hundred pounds about?”
Arthur didn’t answer Wheatstone’s question, he simply got up and opened the door, grabbing Fiona’s arm and pulling her into the room.
As soon as Fiona entered the room, the smile on her face froze. She glanced at Wheatstone, who was smiling shyly and nodding at her, then turned to look at Arthur in the darkness, and suddenly her almond-shaped eyes widened, “Hastings, what do you mean? I’m not that kind of woman, you’ll have to pay me double for me to even consider it.”
“Madam, you’re taking making money a little too easy.”
Arthur sat back in his chair, leaning back and asking, “Information? You followed Mr. Harrison for three days, you can’t have come up empty-handed.”
Fiona heard this, just scoffed, then gently pinched with her hands, pulling out an envelope from her bodice and throwing it on the table, “Hmph! You have no sense of romance, doing this all day, how haven’t you been worked to death?”
Arthur didn’t get angry when he heard this, but took out a small bottle from his pocket and threw it at Fiona.
“What is this?”
Fiona caught the bottle, she looked down, through the not-so-bright light, she could vaguely see an amber-colored semi-viscous liquid flowing in the transparent glass bottle, and the brand name was engraved on the surface of the bottle – Remee.
Fiona was slightly stunned, “This…”
Arthur raised an eyebrow and asked, “So, can you go back to work now?”
“Do you think a bottle of perfume is enough to get rid of me?” Fiona snorted disdainfully, “Come on, I’m not some naive teenager, that trick is too old.”
“Alright, you really are a shrewd woman.” Arthur looked regretful, he took out the hot bill from his inner pocket, “Take this then, give me back the perfume.”
“Give it back to you? Anything that falls into my hands is mine.” Fiona pretended to cry, covering her eyes with her hands, “Oh! Asking a lovely lady for a gift, Mr. Hastings, even if you’re a policeman, you at least need to put on some gentlemanly airs, right?”
“Alright alright.” Arthur first opened the envelope and took a look, then shook the bill at Fiona, “Since you did a good job, the bill and the perfume are yours, but I have to make it clear, this is the only time, no more in the future.”
Fiona heard this, leaned forward, her two hands clamped on the bill, her eyes narrowed slightly, she stared at Arthur’s face for a long time, but finally, she withdrew her hand.
The blonde mixed-race girl snorted unhappily, “Forget it, if I take this money, you’ll probably find an excuse to fire me tomorrow. Forget it, a bottle of perfume is a bottle of perfume, better than nothing. But Mr. Hastings, like you said, this is the only time, we won’t do this again.”
With a gentle click of the door, Wheatstone’s shining eyes also dimmed, he couldn’t help but shake his head, “What a beautiful lady.”
And Arthur also took his attention away from Fiona, he put his hand into the inner pocket of his waistcoat, as if he was searching for something.
Wheatstone saw him like this, couldn’t help but ask, “Arthur, what are you doing?”
As soon as he finished speaking, he heard a tinkling sound, Arthur spread his hands, a pile of colorful perfume bottles were placed on the table.
Wheatstone scratched his head, “Where did you go to stock up? So many perfumes, enough to open a perfume shop.”
Under Wheatstone’s puzzled gaze, Arthur calmly took a puff of smoke, he rested his two arms on the table, and said, “Charles.”
“What?”
Arthur pointed at the perfume bottles on the table, a little embarrassed, “You’re a scientist who’s devoted to research, so you probably don’t care about this. So I’ll give you a brief introduction, this is currently the most fashionable perfume brand in London – Remee. Each bottle of perfume is carefully formulated by the famous French perfumer Remee. And you saw it just now, each bottle of perfume is worth two hundred pounds. But since we are old friends, I can’t rip you off, so I’ll give you a discount, there are ten bottles here, let’s say a thousand pounds, and we’ll settle the account for the recorder, what do you think?”
(End of Chapter)