shadow of britain

Chapter 143 Science is Leaping Forward

In the lecture preparation room of the Royal Society, Charles Wheatstone was sweating, his lips were white, his shirt was soaked with sweat, and his legs trembled at the thought that he would have to stand on the stage tomorrow before an audience of hundreds or thousands.

Wheatstone sat on the chair for a while, but felt uneasy again. He stood up and paced back and forth in the room, but after a while, he felt weak in his calves again.

Obviously this morning, he still felt that his physical condition was better than ever, but now, he felt that he was not far from death.

Wheatstone murmured, "Perhaps I should find a chance to flee London until the Royal Society forgets me?"

While Wheatstone was talking to himself, there was only a click, and the locked door was pushed open from the outside.

Startled, Wheatstone took a step back and almost knocked over the floor-to-ceiling mirror behind him.

He asked in surprise, "Isn't it still here? I should be on stage tomorrow."

He glanced around and saw that standing at the door was a young man with a slightly familiar body and appearance.

With a pipe in his mouth, the young man raised his hand slightly to prop up the big-brimmed hat covering his forehead, and greeted Wheatstone, "Hello, sir. I'm here to apologize to you."

"It's you?!"

Of course, Wheatstone knew this guy who tripped him at the gate of the academy not long ago. If it wasn't for this kid, he might have escaped from this 'hell' right now.

He originally wanted to compete with Arthur, but when he discovered the physical gap between the two, Wheatstone wisely gave up the idea.

In the case of being unable to beat the opponent, he still chooses to love peace.

Wheatstone sighed: "So, who are you?"

Arthur took off his pipe and extended his hand towards Wheatstone in a friendly manner: "Arthur Hastings, I heard from Mr. Faraday that you seem to want to talk to me?"

"Black... Hastings? Are you Mr. Hastings?"

Wheatstone slapped on the forehead: "My God! How could it be you?! I... sorry, I really can't connect you with the image of a thug who stretches his legs and trips people..."

Arthur couldn't help touching his chin when he heard the words: "Oh? Really? Didn't Mr. Faraday tell you that besides being an electromagnetic researcher, I am also a Scotland Yard policeman? There is actually no difference between Scotland Yard police and mobs. The only difference between the two may be that our use of violence is legal."

Hearing this, Wheatstone touched the back of his head in embarrassment and replied: "You are a policeman from Scotland Yard. I've heard of it. But Mr. Faraday also told me that you are very gentle and polite, which is different from ordinary policemen. So in my imagination, you should have a pale face, a little weakness between your eyebrows and eyes, and an aristocratic air in your gestures..."

Arthur shrugged and said, "Forgive me, Mr. Wheatstone. His pale face and weak body must be due to tuberculosis. That is not aristocratic. But I can understand your thoughts. After all, the current social trend is like this, and the description of nobles in novels is always like this.

If you want to express their noble birth and handsome appearance, you will always write something like 'her delicate neck is like the long neck of a swan, and her fair skin is as pale as the midnight moonlight', or 'the slender and graceful hands and arms are just right quarters, like the natural logo of heraldry for them'.

This kind of morbid description has become a template.So, this is indeed a strange society, those who are really sick wish they were not sick, and those who are not sick wish they were sick. "

Wheatstone laughed twice: "I'm sorry, sir, this is my fault. I... I'm not as good at words as you. You may not know that although I am called a scientist by them, I have spent most of my life working in the musical instrument workshop at home. I spend more time communicating with the violin than with people."

Arthur smiled and said, "I'm the same as you, and I'm not that good at words. You may not know that although I am a recognized Catholic, I have spent most of my life walking in hell. The proportion of my dealings with the devil is far greater than that of praying to God."

"You... what are you going to do..."

Wheatstone sensed something wrong in Arthur's words, he stepped back step by step, and the corner of his eyes couldn't help drifting to the door behind Arthur.

Of course Arthur also noticed his reaction, he casually took out a flintlock pistol from his arms and patted it on the table in front of him.

Arthur said: "Mr. Wheatstone, you study acoustics, so you must know that the speed of sound in air is 343 meters per second. And I study bullets, so I can tell you with certainty that the speed of bullets is faster than sound. If you don't believe it, we can do an experiment now, after all, practice can test the truth."

Wheatstone's Adam's apple twitched, and he swallowed heavily: "I...you...are we discussing scientific principles now?"

Arthur opened the chair and sat down. He took a puff of cigarettes and let out a puff of white mist: "Currently, but if you are dishonest, it will not be soon. Although I may not be better than you in science, but in my research on violence, ten of you may not be able to compare with me."

Wheatstone took a breath and raised his hands slightly: "Okay...well, I'll listen to you...you..."

Before he finished speaking, Wheatstone suddenly rushed towards the door, but before he jumped over the threshold, he heard the sound of opening the safety of the pistol behind him.

When it was too late, Wheatstone squatted down and shouted: "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! You are right! The bullet is faster than the sound! Damn it! Why do you have to let me give a speech? Except for this matter, I can do anything! Mr. Hastings, why don't I help you make a violin, and we will be evened."

Just as Wheatstone finished speaking, the devil beside him couldn't help whistling: "Oh! A violin!"

Arthur glanced at the ecstatic Red Devil, and said, "Sorry! Mr. Wheatstone. According to Scotland Yard's internal regulations, we cannot ask for anything from good citizens. Unless..."

"Unless what?" Wheatstone squatted on the ground slowly and turned around.

Arthur turned the pistol in a circle and put it back on the table: "Unless the gift is out of friendship. If there is indeed a friendship between us, I might consider making a small request to the Duke of Sussex, such as delaying your speech time or something. After all, he still owes me a favor."

"Can a violin delay my speech?"

Wheatstone's eyes lit up, and he rushed forward to hold Arthur's hand as if he had seen a savior, with an excited expression on his face: "Oh! Hess... No, my dear Arthur! You are worthy of being an upright police officer worthy of the public's trust. You will always appear by the people's side when they need you. What Mr. Faraday said is absolutely right. In addition to your scientific talents, you also have this golden personal character!"

Arthur shook his head while smoking a cigarette when he heard the words: "Mr. Wheatstone, don't get me wrong. Even if I help you, it's not because of the violin, but because of friendship."

"Yes, friendship!" Wheatstone smirked: "Of course it is because of friendship, how could it be because of the violin? Arthur, are you willing to accept my friendship?"

As soon as the corner of Arthur's mouth mentioned it, the fish had already jumped into his fishing basket by themselves, and he had no reason to refuse.

"Of course, my friend. Of course I am willing to accept your friendship. Out of consideration among friends, I plan to invite you to attend a banquet with me in the West End of London this Sunday evening. Presumably you have no reason to refuse, right?"

"Banquet?" Wheatstone's smile froze suddenly: "Isn't friendship a violin?"

Arthur didn't intend to continue arguing with him in this regard, he bent down and put his hat on Wheatstone's head.

"Mr. Wheatstone, accepting your violin is my acceptance of your friendship. Accepting my banquet invitation is your acceptance of my friendship. I can't owe you the reciprocity between friends and the rules of communication between people. Do you agree with what I said?"

Wheatstone glanced at Arthur's glowing red eyes, and noticed the creepy smile on his mouth again.

More importantly, it's really hard to get people to react otherwise when there's a gun pressed to the top of your head.

Wheatstone squeezed out a smile that was uglier than crying. He nodded and said, "It's really hard to disagree with your friendship."

Arthur smiled and patted him on the shoulder: "You will gradually get to know me in the future. Mr. Wheatstone, you must know that I have always been good at communication. Then, in return, your science lecture will be postponed until next month. During this period, I will train you in speech to help you overcome your fear."

Wheatstone blinked his eyes twice without tears: "Do you need to point a gun at me during training?"

"No no no."

Arthur shook his fingers: "The training is free, and during this period, if you can make some breakthroughs in the field of acoustics, maybe you can solve the problem of fear of speech once and for all. I have heard Mr. Faraday say about your invention of the phonograph. If you can combine the sounding principle of the music box, maybe you can come up with something amazing."

Wheatstone was taken aback when he heard that, Arthur's words gave him a flash of inspiration, as if he was about to touch something.

"You...you mean?"

Arthur smiled and asked: "Mr. Wheatstone, since your megaphone can present the characteristics of the sound curves produced under different vibration modes, why not reverse it? In this way, you can complete the lecture without you standing on the podium, just by placing a machine?"

(End of this chapter)