SGB Chapter 248

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## Chapter 248: It’s Not Your Place to Talk About Regulations (5K8)

**London, Westminster, 4 Whitehall Street.**

In the Chief’s office, Chief Rowan leaned back in his chair, flipping through the arrest warrant in his hand, page by page.

After finishing the document, he leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk and turning to Arthur: “That Louis Bonaparte, have you verified his identity? Is he the real deal?”

Arthur smiled and replied: “I can’t say it’s 100% certain, but at least I haven’t found any signs of him being a fake. I previously sent someone to the West Indies docks to check his background, and he did indeed arrive in Britain by stowing away on a merchant ship from Rome. Considering the recent news of the Carbonari uprising there, coupled with his fluent French and the verification from French artillery captain Alexandre Dumas regarding his experience in the French artillery command system, at least from the perspective of the logic of his statement, I don’t believe he’s lying about certain aspects of his story.”

Chief Rowan pondered for a moment: “If he’s real, maybe we can connect this to Bernie Harrison’s case…”

Arthur smiled: “Sir, we think alike. That’s what I was thinking too. If we only arrest Bernie Harrison, the MPs can say we’re lawless, ignoring the 29th article of the Magna Carta. But if we also catch someone from the Bonaparte family, it will show that we are upholding our duty, being impartial and upholding the principle of equality before the law.”

Rowan chuckled and nodded approvingly: “Come on, Arthur, young man, what are your thoughts on this?”

Arthur opened another document: “During this period, I focused on reviewing some relevant regulations regarding MP immunity. The earliest explicit provisions regarding MP immunity originated from a decree issued by Edward II in 1314, which prohibited courts from ruling on the imprisonment of MPs, thus preventing them from attending parliamentary sessions.

In 1626 and 1675, both the House of Lords and the House of Commons passed resolutions stipulating that during parliamentary sessions and 40 days before and after, except for treason, felonies, and breaches of the peace, no MP could be arrested without the decision of the House of Lords or the House of Commons, or without an order from either house.

After the Glorious Revolution in 1688, the Bill of Rights further strengthened the rights of MPs in this regard, stating that they enjoy the freedom to speak, vote, debate, or proceed in Parliament, and the right not to be impeached or questioned in any court or place other than Parliament.

According to internal records from the Home Office and Scotland Yard, the last time an MP was arrested was the John Wilkes case in 1763. John Wilkes, a member of the House of Commons, was arrested by King George III on a general warrant for criticizing the king and the cabinet in issue 45 of the North Briton. However, a week later, the Lord Chief Justice ruled the arrest unconstitutional at the Court of King’s Bench for violating parliamentary privilege and released Wilkes.

A few months later, the Earl of Sandwich, First Lord of the Admiralty, read Wilkes’s essay “On Woman,” written years before, in the House of Lords, claiming that Wilkes was immoral, slandered the monarch, and blasphemed God. Since the essay contained a large section of personal attacks and explicit descriptions against Sandwich, and even linked him to the famous prostitute Fanny Murray, the House of Lords ultimately ruled that Wilkes’s remarks in issue 45 of the North Briton violated parliamentary privilege and formally filed a lawsuit against Wilkes for seditious libel.

Wilkes fled to Paris and was later expelled from his seat in the House of Commons for prolonged absence from meetings. He was also tried in absentia, and found guilty of seditious libel. However, during the subsequent general election, John Wilkes returned to Britain and, on the strength of the immense public opinion he had accumulated during the investigation of the previous case, won a landslide victory in the Middlesex constituency.

His Majesty demanded that Parliament hold a new election, and the cabinet also sent people to stir up trouble in the media, making a fuss about Wilkes’s long separation from his wife and his keeping of multiple mistresses. However, even this could not prevent Wilkes from winning again in Middlesex. Then, the King simply bypassed Parliament and ordered the Court of King’s Bench to rule that Wilkes was ineligible to be a candidate, but this move sparked a strong backlash from both Parliament and British citizens.

Sir Peter, the Prime Minister who had always supported the King, publicly denounced the move as “an axe at the root of the tree of liberty,” and Burke, the Whig propagandist, even went so far as to say, “This is appalling, it is shaking the very foundations of Britain.” In the streets of London, tens of thousands of Londoners protested, storming the prison van and rescuing Wilkes. However, after being rescued, Wilkes escaped his rescuers, disguised himself, and went to the prison himself, claiming that he was doing so “because Parliament is lawless, but I want to set an example.”

Sir, today’s youngsters may not remember much about Wilkes, but you are much older than me, so you may have heard your elders mention the name John Wilkes. Based on the archival materials I have access to, the Wilkes affair even threatened the authority of George III at one point, coupled with the American Revolutionary War, so the scale of this movement was unprecedented.

Bernie Harrison, although he didn’t experience that era and may not have much of a sense of dedication, I think there are things worth our attention in this whole operation.”

Rowan, no fool, immediately understood what Arthur meant: “You mean Bernie Harrison wants to play big, to gain some political capital for himself, to package himself as a victim of injustice, a righteous man?”

Arthur closed the file and placed it on the desk: “I can only say it’s possible. Although the social environment is different now, madmen and ambitious people always exist. Mr. Harrison has been a backbench MP for several years now, and the Tory party is currently divided. The head of the hardliners, Earl Eldon, is getting old and has been increasingly depressed by the constant attacks on him in recent years, while the Duke of Wellington, because of the Catholic Emancipation Act, is seen as a traitor by the hardliners and naturally can’t lead them anymore. So…”

Rowan flipped through the files, then tossed them on the desk: “Heh, it seems our Harrison MP wants to be a rising star, after the Duke of Wellington and Lord Eldon leave the stage, he wants to step into the spotlight and fight with Sir Peel, the leader of the Liberals, for control of the Tory party. It seems he’s throwing some heavy punches, I don’t know if Sir Peel will be hurt later, but I’m already burning all over.”

Suddenly, Rowan looked up: “I talked to Sir Peel two days ago, he doesn’t want to escalate this either, but Harrison’s attitude is too firm. Sir Peel, as the leader of the Tory party, can’t just suppress him and prevent him from protecting his own interests. After all, times have changed, the Tories are no longer the glorious party they used to be, they can’t afford to lose an MP. If we push Harrison too hard and make him jump ship to the Whigs, it will be a devastating blow to the Tories’ reputation and internal unity. If we can’t get through to Sir Peel, we have to think of other ways to solve the problem.”

Arthur just smiled: “Whether Sir Peel will change his mind is still unknown. I just sent him something interesting this morning. I think, with Sir Peel’s intelligence and art appreciation, after he listens to that record, his mood and attitude towards Bernie Harrison will probably change. We can wait a little longer on the Tory side, we’re in no hurry. Now, we just need to focus on stopping the mouths of those MPs who sympathize with Mr. Harrison. Regarding this, you just said that we can start with this arrest warrant signed by Louis Bonaparte.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed, he stared at Arthur for a long time, the Army Colonel grinned: “Arthur, it seems you have a lot of information I don’t know about! Why haven’t I heard anything about this? May I ask, am I honored to be privy to this information?”

Arthur just smiled, holding the folder, and stood up: “Sir, the fact that you don’t know is actually a good thing, because even Sir Peel only heard part of the beautiful music.”

Rowan lit his pipe and took a puff, the office was filled with smoke: “What do you mean by that?”

Arthur smiled: “Just like his uncle, who signed the arrest warrant, Louis Bonaparte, said: If it’s good news, there’s no need to rush. But if it’s bad news, wake me up immediately, bad news can’t be delayed for a moment. As the Chief of Scotland Yard, the man in Scotland Yard who is on par with Napoleon, you shouldn’t be distracted by unimportant news.”

Rowan held his pipe, his eyebrows raised slightly: “So, the news you have is good news for Scotland Yard? But it’s bad news for Sir Peel? Therefore, I don’t need to know, but Sir Peel needs to know?”

Arthur smiled and replied: “Sir, I don’t know what information you are basing your deductions on, but according to the regulations of the London Metropolitan Police Information Bureau, I am not authorized to answer your question.”

Rowan heard this, he sucked on his pipe a few times.

Through the thick smoke, his expression was completely obscured.

Seeing this, Arthur calmly took a step back: “Sir, I’ll go apply for a search warrant for Joseph Bonaparte’s residence at Regent’s Crescent. A Frenchman without identity, at the same time, is wanted by the current July Monarchy in France, the Papal States, and many other Apennine states. According to British law, it’s completely reasonable for Scotland Yard to apply for his arrest or surveillance. As for the procedures on the Foreign Office side, it’s up to you to handle it, such inter-departmental cooperation can only be handled by you, according to the regulations.”

After speaking, Arthur saluted him and turned to leave.

But as his hand reached for the doorknob, he heard Rowan’s familiar voice from behind the desk.

“Arthur.”

Arthur turned around and nodded slightly: “Sir, anything else?”

Rowan waved away the smoke in front of him, tapping the ashes from his pipe into the ashtray: “Believe me, you’ll be a big shot. Good luck, young man.”

Arthur just smiled and didn’t reply. He opened the door and left.

As the office door clicked shut, Rowan picked up his teacup, crossed his legs, and muttered to himself: “His ability to speak in circles is exactly like those old bureaucrats in the Home Office. Maybe he should run for MP, then he’d probably climb the ladder faster. Why bother splashing around in this small pond of Scotland Yard?”

**London, Marylebone, Regent’s Crescent.**

The Bonaparte family reunion was taking place here. Louis Bonaparte, who had borrowed an outfit from Arthur to meet his uncle, sat on the sofa, sobbing with his face buried in his hands.

His uncle, the former King of Spain, also leaned on his ruby-encrusted walking stick, sighing over his nephew’s experiences over the past few years.

Outside Regent’s Crescent, Chief Inspector Jones smoked a cigarette, watching the scene inside through the window glass.

Louis Bonaparte’s identity had been confirmed, but Jones was still a little apprehensive about barging into the house of a former king and taking his grand-nephew away in front of him.

He didn’t know what Arthur was thinking, making such a reckless decision.

From a normal law enforcement perspective, even if Arthur wanted to make a joke of Louis Bonaparte, he could have waited for him to go out and arrested him on the street. But Arthur just wouldn’t, he had to slap the former King of Spain in the face.

Once this happened, Jones could even imagine that this arrest would definitely make the front page of London’s major newspapers tomorrow, after all, those journalists love to report on the private lives of these bigwigs, and the police breaking into a private residence would definitely not escape their eyes.

Even if the reporters didn’t know, the furious former King would certainly leak the story to the reporters himself.

Once this news came out, it wouldn’t have any good impact on Scotland Yard’s reputation, and the bigwigs in the Home Office didn’t know how they would react to this incident.

However, although Jones had his doubts, he still intended to carry out Arthur’s orders meticulously.

The reason was simple, he, Claiden Jones, was desperate to get promoted!

The new regulations’ annual promotion system was about to be implemented, and a hot Inspector position was waiting for him, anyone would be dizzy.

After Napoleon died, the Bonaparte family’s glory was all in the past, let alone on British soil.

In other words, even if he lost this gamble, the worst case scenario was probably just a few scoldings, some verbal attacks from the media, and at most, Scotland Yard might punish him by preventing him from being promoted for a few years.

But because the new regulations were about to be announced, if Jones didn’t get promoted in the next month or two, he would have no hope for at least the next four years.

Looking at it from both sides, it was a no-loss situation, so why wouldn’t he do it?

Jones pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it, asking the officer next to him: “Did the office send the arrest warrant?”

The officer beside him replied: “The warrant arrived, but we’re still missing the documents from the Foreign Office.”

Jones looked into the house at the two Bonapartes, and suddenly noticed three male servants coming out of the house.

He quickly stopped the leading one, smiling and asking: “Are the two Mr. Bonapartes having a pleasant conversation?”

The servant glanced at his uniform and politely nodded: “My lord is very grateful to the officers for rescuing our young master from the hands of London’s thugs. Later, he would like to entrust me to send some snuff bottles and other small gifts to the officers as a token of his gratitude. But for now, please move aside, gentlemen, my lord intends to take his young master on a tour of London’s sights, and we need to prepare for the trip in advance, get the carriage ready.”

Jones heard this and tipped his hat slightly: “Alright, sir, go ahead and do your thing.”

He watched them walk towards the stables behind Regent’s Crescent, and only when he was sure they were out of sight did he put his hat back on, loosened his collar and said coldly: “Listen to my command, prepare to break into Regent’s Crescent and arrest Louis Bonaparte.”

The officer beside him was startled: “Chief… Chief, are you crazy? We don’t have all the documents yet, if we do this, it’s probably against the regulations, right?”

“Regulations?” Jones glared at him, imitating Arthur’s former fist-bumping gesture towards the direction of Scotland Yard: “All six departments and 23 districts of Scotland Yard are on Hastings Inspector’s shoulders, the word ‘regulations’ isn’t for you to say!”

The officer was scolded and didn’t dare to look up, he just weakly replied: “Bearing six departments and 23 districts? Isn’t Hastings Inspector bearing the Royal Arms of St. Edward on his shoulders?”

An older officer next to him heard this and quickly pulled the young officer back, smiling awkwardly to break the ice: “You’re right, Hastings Inspector is a big star in our Scotland Yard. In the past two years, everyone who has worked with him has praised Hastings Inspector for his meticulous work and excellent skills.”

“Stop with the useless talk!” Jones said: “I’m just asking you one question, are you going to break into Regent’s Crescent and make the arrest or not?!”

The young officer spoke up: “Of course, we will, but…”

Jones glared: “But what?”

The young officer said: “The things you just said, won’t they offend Chief Rowan too much?”

Jones heard this, he threw his white gloves on the ground in anger, and scolded: “Offend your mother’s head!”

He saw the officers hesitating one by one, feeling both angry and anxious, but suddenly, a flash of inspiration came to his mind, and a cunning plan immediately surfaced.

Jones took a deep breath, calmed himself down, recalled Arthur’s appearance, and said in a calm voice: “I’m sorry everyone, I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

The officers were relieved to hear this: “It’s okay, Chief, we know you’re under a lot of pressure with this arrest mission.”

Jones asked: “No, it’s not because of that. As a policeman, pressure is always there, as a mature officer, I’m used to it. You should know that I don’t have so many emotions in my work. The reason I lost my temper today is that I feel like this might be my last time working with everyone in the Whitechapel station, I want to cherish these last moments and leave a happy shared memory with everyone…”

“Chief…”

“You… You wouldn’t be…”

“There’s nothing to hold onto here, it’s hard and tiring, finding another job would be better than this.”

“Farewell, Chief!”

The officers all said words of blessing, but Jones changed his tune: “Yeah, when I said goodbye to Claiden Inspector yesterday, I was the same as you guys. But, after all, it’s been a place where we’ve worked for so long, even if we go to a better office environment, this sincere friendship will never fade.”

“This…”

The officers’ expressions changed one by one, and some of those who understood were already considering their future career changes.

Jones took a deep breath, revealing a relieved smile: “Of course, I also like to choose a suitable successor. After all, you all know that Whitechapel is a district with a long development history, a rich working-class population, and complex crime situations…”

Jones kept talking in circles, but the young officer who had just been arguing with him was distracted.

He just nudged the officer next to him: “Where’s the warrant?”

His colleague was still pondering the implications of Jones’s words and didn’t think much of it, so he reached into his pocket and handed him the warrant: “Here, what’s wrong?”

But as soon as he finished speaking, he saw the young officer draw his pistol from his waist and charge towards the door like an arrow.

There was a bang, and a roar came from the room: “Don’t move! Scotland Yard Police!”

Then, a report came, so upright that even the most picky old officer couldn’t find fault with it: “Report, Chief, London Metropolitan Police, East London Region, Tower Hamlets District, Whitechapel Station, Second Class Sergeant Ridley King reporting, target Louis Bonaparte has been apprehended!”

(End of Chapter)

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