shadow of britain

Chapter 181 The Mister Who Runs Out of the Madhouse
In Wheatstone's musical instrument store, Arthur looked at the two gramophones on the counter and took off his hat to pay tribute to Wheatstone.

"Thank you for your cooperation, good citizen."

Wheatstone just put one hand on the counter and put his other hand on his forehead: "I hope you will never have the opportunity to pay tribute to me in the future."

Arthur was not angry at Wheatstone's impoliteness, but replied quite calmly: "About this, I think you should be ill-considered. I think we will meet again soon, not at the Royal Society , in the musical instrument store."

"All right, all right." Wheatstone waved his hand: "So, Mr. Hastings, now that you have the phonograph, what about throwing the gun?"

"Throwing the gun?" Arthur raised his head slightly, as if he was trying to remember.

Wheatstone looked suspicious: "Could it be that you want to go back on your word?"

Arthur just said calmly: "I don't know where you got the news about Scotland Yard's missing guns. But please forgive me, Scotland Yard has quite strict internal management regulations, and each of our police officers has strict control over the guns they carry with them. They are all very tight. Therefore, it is absolutely impossible for us to lose the gun."

Hearing this, Wheatstone opened his mouth wide and didn't close it for a long time: "You...how on earth did you manage to do this?"

"What do you mean?"

Wheatstone gestured while speaking: "It's that...the ability to open your eyes and tell lies."

Arthur said as if he had amnesia: "Mr. Wheatstone, your words don't match the words. I guess you must be sick, and I need to send you to Bethlem on the way back. The Royal Hospital? You may not know, but I am a very warm-hearted man."

When Wheatstone heard this, sweat came down from his head.

But any Londoner knows what Bethlem Royal Infirmary does. It treats nothing but mental illness.

He hastily waved his hands and said, "Don't, don't, I just didn't sleep well last night, and I was a little nervous. Other than that, there are no major problems. So, I don't want you to worry about my health. Mr. Hastings , you go slowly, I won't see you off."

Arthur nodded: "Then, Mr. Wheatstone, please take care of yourself, I think we will need you in the future."

After saying that, Arthur turned around and was about to go out, but saw a young man holding an umbrella standing outside the door.

The young man's appearance still looked a little familiar.

But before Arthur remembered who he was, the other party had pushed open the door of the musical instrument store and rushed in.

"It's you! I finally caught you! I knew you would definitely come back again! Sigma, don't try to escape from my grasp today!"

"Sigma?" Arthur stared at the other person's face for a while before remembering who he was.

This was the Cambridge student William Thackeray who had been irritated by Elder in the musical instrument shop.

And the so-called Sigma should be Xu Zhimo?

However, the other party can't completely blame Xu Zhimo for pronouncing the three syllables like this. After all, this pronunciation is still a bit difficult for an authentic British gentleman.

If it was a different time when he was not busy, Arthur might have stopped to chat with the other party, but now he obviously didn't have such leisure.

Arthur said: "Sir, you may have misunderstood the person. I am neither σ (Sigma) nor α (Alpha). I have nothing to do with those Greek letters. Or there is no interest in calculating angles with α. So now, please step aside, I have some urgent business to attend to."

But Thackeray obviously didn't listen to persuasion. This arrogant young man stared at Arthur with a hint of unwillingness on his arrogant face.

"You...do you think I really want to find you? Damn it! How should I tell you about this! Fuck, maybe I shouldn't have believed the nonsense about you and that rude friend in the first place. When I went back to school, Searched all the literary clubs, but there wasn't a single one named Sigma among them, and I couldn't even find one with such a weird name on the previous student rolls."

Arthur comforted: "It's okay, it's normal to not find it, and it's not your fault. If you find it, then I will start to doubt the authenticity of the world."

Hearing this, Thackeray just clenched his fists. After holding back for a long time, he blushed and asked, "So, you lied to me from the beginning? That poem is yours at all." work?"

"No, no, no." Arthur has always been frank in this regard: "I'm just borrowing, or you can judge me for plagiarism, or plagiarism, anyway, it's up to you, as long as you like it. Mr. Thackeray, I know you I hated my friend so much that I hated it by the way. It's no big deal, I understand, it's just human. But since I've already admitted to you that I plagiarized, you should now Are you satisfied? If you are satisfied, please give way, I am really in a hurry."

Who knew Thackeray heard this, not only did not calm down, but felt that Arthur was despising him.

This young man with strong self-esteem pursed his lips and trembled all over: "You are contemptuous of me! Do you think I will steal the honor that should belong to you? Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Sigma, I'm afraid you are wrong. Although I hope to be famous , but never achieve yourself in such a way as to tarnish your own honor!"

Arthur was confused by his nonsensical remark.

Even Wheatstone, a patient with social phobia standing behind the counter, couldn't help complaining: "Mr. Hastings, it seems that there is a patient here who should be sent to Bethlem Royal Hospital more than me."

Arthur was puzzled: "Mr. Thackeray, what are you talking about?"

"say what?"

It was only then that Thackeray realized his gaffe. He took a deep breath and tried his best to calm down his emotions: "Mr. Sigma, first of all, I have to apologize to you. If possible, please submit your "Farewell to Cambridge" in this year's Cambridge University Poetry Competition.

But at the same time, I would also like to congratulate you, because your work won the first place in the school competition and successfully won the principal's gold medal.Although I don't know why that poem is better than my work, but if you win, you win, and your attainments in poetry are indeed better than mine.

Perhaps your friend is right in saying that I am really not suitable for a job in the field of literature.I can't catch up with Alfred, and I can't catch up with you. "

When Arthur heard this, his scalp felt numb. He scratched his head and asked, "Wait, you said "Farewell Cambridge" won the gold medal? Compared with Mr. Sheng, especially compared with that song "Timbaktu", there is still a certain gap."

The more Thackeray listened, the more aggrieved he felt: "I'm very glad that you recognized Alfred's talent, but his "Timbuktu" was the gold medal work last year. As for this year, Alfred did not participate, so Your gold medal is truly well deserved.

To be honest, the reason why I came to you in such a hurry is to invite you to attend the award ceremony held in Cambridge next month.After all, I cannot take the stage and claim your honor. "

"Go to Cambridge to receive the award?" Arthur raised his forehead and said, "Then you might as well just kill me. If my classmates know the news, I'm afraid I won't have to hang out in the alumni circle in the future."

Hearing this, Thackeray asked in surprise, "Are you a graduate of Oxford?"

Arthur frowned and said: "Mr. Thackeray, although I respect you very much, I still have to strongly urge you to take back the attack on my life!"

"Ah... so you have nothing to do with Oxford." Thackeray was also relieved when he heard this, he clutched his chest and said, "That's easy... Fortunately, you didn't graduate from Oxford. If the school knows that I let a Oxford people won the first place in the poetry competition, even if I don't get expelled from school, I will have to be squeezed by my classmates for a while."

"That's right, I have nothing to do with Oxford." Arthur said firmly: "My friend is the authentic old Oxford."

Thackeray was taken aback for a moment. He recalled what happened that day, and suddenly felt a sense of relief. He muttered: "That's no wonder, I'll just say...he does have a strong, stubborn The breath of Oxford."

He was thinking about Arthur's words, but when he came back to his senses, he suddenly found that Arthur, who was standing in front of him just now, had disappeared without a trace.

He hurriedly searched for it privately, but there was no trace of Arthur anywhere in the store.

"This……"

Thackeray hurriedly asked the shopkeeper Huis Passage: "Sir, where did the gentleman who was standing here just now go?"

Wheatstone curled his lips and replied, "He went through the back door."

"what?!"

Thackeray wanted to chase after him in a hurry, but before he could go out, he saw a black public carriage passing by outside the window, and Arthur was sitting in the car and took off his hat to greet him through the window: " Farewell, Mr. Thackeray. Remember to say hello to your friend Alfred Tennyson for me."

The carriage galloped past, the wheels brought up circles of muddy water, and disappeared at the end of the central street under Thackeray's gaze.

Seeing this situation, Thackeray knew that he would definitely not be able to catch up.

He stood in the store and spun around in a hurry. Suddenly, as if he remembered something, he rushed to Wheatstone with a stride.

"Excuse me, do you know the name of that gentleman just now? He must have asked you to order musical instruments when he came here? Do you have his home address or work address here?"

Wheatstone thought about Arthur's actions to him just now, then looked at the young man in front of him who seemed to be more innocent than himself, and replied maliciously: "Mr., don't listen to the gentleman just now. Nonsense, his name is Sigma. Mr Arthur Sigma, whose home address is Bethlem Royal Infirmary, Liverpool Street, City of Finance."

Although Thackeray can't be called old London, he still has heard of this place name a little bit.

He asked suspiciously: "Bethlem Royal Hospital? Isn't that a place for the mentally ill?"

Wheatstone stared seriously at Thackeray's eyes, and patted his shoulder lightly with one hand: "Sir, I just heard you mention in a conversation that you are a Cambridge student who likes literature. Then you should know that, poets, it is normal to have some mental illness. Mr. Sigma can write poems that win gold medals. If he is not mentally ill, I think it is basically impossible."

(End of this chapter)