shadow of britain

Chapter 487 Public Service Nationality
For Arthur, who had worked in Scotland Yard for a long time, escorting prisoners to prison was not a strange thing, but going to prison himself was indeed the first time.

In London, most untried suspects, especially those involved in civil crimes, would be temporarily detained in detention houses or detention cells in police stations until the court's verdict, when they would be imprisoned in debtors' prisons or criminal prisons according to their crimes.

But France obviously did not make such detailed divisions in this regard. Since the French government had not yet clearly defined the difference between criminal and civil crimes, and even in many inland provinces they would not directly detain debtors, there were no detention centers in most cities in France.

Therefore, even if they really want to detain some minor offenders, they can only put them in prison with criminals.

And a guy like Arthur, who was accused of causing trouble in the tavern, would certainly not be an exception.

The police led Arthur, whose hands were handcuffed with heavy iron chains, through the courtyard of the primary court and came to a door that looked short and old and was studded with nails.

There was a hole on the door that was sealed with an iron sheet. The jailer knocked on the door three times with the back of his hand. The iron sheet was pulled open from the inside, revealing a pair of bored eyes.

"What?"

"We're here to send a few new prisoners who were causing trouble in the tavern. Their case will go to court in a week, so they'll be kept here for a few days first."

Click.

There was a sound of a stiff iron bolt opening, and the door was pushed open from the inside.

"come in."

Arthur looked up and saw that behind the gate was a corridor, and below the corridor was a row of rooms with funnel-shaped wooden boards on the ceiling, which took light from the yard above. The jailer's house was separated from the prison by an underground arcade.

As for the conditions in the cells, to be honest, they were not much better than the notorious Old Ship Prison and Newgate Prison in London.

The cell was dimly lit, and the air was filled with a damp and musty smell that could be smelled even from the ground above the room.

The prisoners were packed tightly together in small spaces, with beds closely packed together.

The sanitary facilities here are also extremely rudimentary. The gaps between the floor tiles and the walls are filled with dirt and maggots. Many prisoners have to solve the problem of using the toilet in the corners of the cells. Over the years, the accumulation of sewage and the lack of ventilation inevitably lead to the accumulation of sewage and the stench.

The living conditions were so poor that the food was not much better. The prisoners' diet was extremely simple, usually only a small amount of moldy bread and turbid water supplied at regular intervals. Malnutrition and hunger were the norm.

Even if an anorexic patient lives here, it only takes a month for him to realize how happy eating is. Of course, the premise of all this is that he does not die from the various infectious diseases rampant in the prison before being released.

However, although all the prisoners here are as thin as monkeys in the Amazon jungle, there are still many wealthy gentlemen.

They acted as if they were Napoleon, and in fact their power here was comparable to that of an emperor. Yes, they were all jailers.

You'll rarely see a thin prison guard here.

This is mainly due to several reasons.

First, compared to other jobs, this is an extremely leisurely job.

Secondly, the jailers are like the owners of a rural inn, they don't have to pay rent. The government's funding for prisons is a fixed amount, and they feed the prisoners badly, so they naturally eat well.

Finally, regarding the accommodation of prisoners, the jailers, like the owners of rural inns, will arrange it according to the financial resources of the guests.

If you were willing to pay ten sous, you would be assigned a room with a thatched bed.

If you are willing to pay a five-franc écu coin, you can live in a small single room with a window here.

And if you are willing to pay a gold Louis worth twenty francs, you can treat this place as a temporary hotel and live there permanently. Your room will be arranged in the front row of the underground arcade, protecting you from the miasma deep in the prison.

Moreover, your room will be facing the jailer's room. Not only can you ask them to bring you some takeout when they are out, but you can also chat and play cards with them when you have nothing to do.

The policeman stood outside the door and gave the warden a few brief instructions, implicitly pointing out that Arthur's status was special, and therefore requested that he be given certain preferential treatment.

This kind of situation is common in prison, and the jailer did not express much dissatisfaction. Moreover, he could see that this young man was different from ordinary street criminals, so he was willing to keep him company.

He led Arthur to the VIP suite opposite the jailer's quarters, took out the key and opened the door.

He noticed Arthur staring at the cell in a daze, and thought the young man thought he was being treated badly, so he explained, "This is the best one."

The cell walls were made of stone and covered with moss, looking quite damp. The window above was high and had iron bars.

The guards paced back and forth in the corridor. Their regular footsteps could be heard clearly in the room. The monotonous voice like the tide reminded the prisoners at all times: Don't try any tricks, we are watching you!
To be honest, these details and environments have a great impact on the mental health of ordinary people. Therefore, the number of mentally ill people in prisons is usually no less than that in mental hospitals.

Maybe it was because of the police's instructions, but the jailers were very polite to Arthur. They told Arthur that he could take a walk in the yard before dark, but he had to go back to his cell before going to bed.

The most ordinary freedom, such as taking a walk, has become a great privilege here.

Arthur looked back at the dirty bed, wondering how many fleas were living in the mattress. Sitting here was like running a zoo on his body.

Arthur would rather sit on the straw than lie on it for a moment. He sat on the straw and asked the jailer to bring him paper and pen, saying that he wanted to write an appeal.

He wrote his novel using his legs and knees as a table, amid the sound of the jailers' footsteps and the prisoners' half-dead groans.

Arthur thought that he might have to endure the whole night here without anyone to talk to.

But God ultimately showed mercy to this Catholic who was not a devout believer, even though his miracle of resurrection was performed by the devil.

The cell door creaked open again, and several more prisoners were escorted into the prison.

One of them was Victor, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and covered in mud and wine.

This fifty-something Parisian detective seemed to be an old acquaintance of the warden. He just winked at him and instantly made the other person understand what was going on.

Victor originally followed the crowd inside, but he was still a little worried about the little British man who was conducting a sting operation for the first time, so he stayed in front of the cell for a while.

The warden understood his hint, so he said indifferently: "You are lucky, old man. We are short of rooms. You can stay here tonight and move to another room when someone is released tomorrow."

Victor entered Arthur's cell and sat down on the straw. He took off his hat to fan himself and asked in a low voice, "I saw you were having a good chat with that girl named Clara. Have you made any progress?"

Arthur continued writing, responding with one mind and two minds: "She seems to like people with books, so I had a good chat with her. But she didn't seem to want to introduce me to work under Gwawi, and she even told me to stay away from that group of people."

"This girl has a good heart. She is much better than those beasts in the Paris Police Department."

Arthur glanced up at Vidocq and said, "Why? In just a short while, they tripped you up again?"

Victor sneered, "When I went to the street to ask them to send a police team to raid the tavern just now, they didn't even look at me straight in the eye. When I was still in the Security Department, they were still afraid of my title as the head of the Security Department, but now that I'm gone, it's like I'm nothing. Just now in front of the court, the court clerk was still holding on to my previous criminal record. But he didn't think about the fact that the entire Paris criminal record system was built by me. He actually dared to question his forefather!"

Arthur laughed and said, "Then how did you get them to obey your arrangements?"

"It's very simple."

Victor did not hide anything: "I told them that this case was personally supervised by His Excellency the Chief of Police, Risoke. If they don't follow my instructions and something goes wrong in the end, they will be in trouble."

Arthur raised his eyebrows and said jokingly, "Mr. Vidocq, you are indeed very courageous. If I were in London, I would have to pack up and leave the court the next day unless I could hire a group of the best lawyers in London to fight the case for me."

Vidocq said, "My dear, you are from England, so I can understand. Judges there dared to declare the king unconstitutional more than once, but this is Paris, and our situation is different. You may not know that there is a group of people in Paris who only eat official meals, and they are ranked between the first and third levels on the government budget table.

The lowest annual salary of this people is 1200 yuan, and the highest is 6000 yuan. Moreover, this kind of people who rely on others for their livelihood also have many despicable, cowardly and lowly characteristics. The most obvious one is that they have an involuntary, mechanical and instinctive fear of the big bosses in their department. Although these big bosses are just an unclear signature on documents to them.

But in the eyes of those who are submissive, the words "Director General", "Minister", "Minister", "Your Excellency" represent a sacred authority that cannot be appealed to. In the minds of these small civil servants, their superiors are like the Pope in the minds of Christians, and they can never do anything wrong. The minister's actions, words, and everything said in his name all contain an irresistible light.

No matter what the document was, or how ridiculous the argument was, as long as he added that embroidered signature, everything would be covered up and everything he ordered people to do would become legal. All the absurd ideas were unrestricted as long as they came from your mouth. Those who were unwilling to do things for their own interests would quickly obey your orders as soon as they heard the word "your Excellency".

The government is like the army. Everyone just knows to obey with their eyes closed. This system does not allow your conscience to rise, and it destroys your humanity. Over time, it turns a person into a screw in the government. To deal with such a scum who eats public food, you only need to bring out these titles to intimidate them, and even the smartest guys will instantly lose the courage to argue with you. "

Arthur smiled and shrugged, returning his attention to his novel. "It seems that you have worked in the Greater Paris Police Department for more than 20 years, and you have accumulated a lot of resentment. But I think there are many abscesses in government departments. Isn't it a good opportunity for someone as talented as you to climb up?"

Victor sighed, "That's because you don't understand them. Let me tell you one thing and you'll understand. The guy you had a fight with in front of the detective agency a few days ago, do you know how he views criminals?

"We can get rid of those English steel-bars if they offer the slightest resistance when we arrest them," he once said to me in private. "What I want most is for the prisoner to resort to violence, so that we can kill him on the spot. In this way, the cost of prosecution, the cost of guards, the cost of prison food, can all be saved, and the harm to society will be eliminated at the same time. The cost of prosecution, the summons of witnesses, the travel allowance, the execution of the sentence, all the legal procedures to deal with these scoundrels will cost far more than the allowance we get, and there is also the advantage of saving time. A knife in the belly of these scum will eliminate hundreds of crimes and teach many scoundrels not to go beyond the scope of petty crimes. This is called police work well done. According to the theory of true philanthropists, this method is to prevent crime."

Although these guys are as stupid as Yorkshire pigs when facing you, they are more shrewd and vicious than vampires and witches when dealing with those less prominent figures. "

When Arthur heard this, he simply put down his pen and shook his head, saying, "Mr. Vidocq, I don't agree with your opinion."

"Oh? Do you have any ideas?"

"I've had Yorkshire pigs, more than one, and they're not that stupid."

Upon hearing this, Victor laughed and patted Arthur on the shoulder. "Brother, it seems that you are in good shape. In this case, you will be in charge of dealing with Clara. I will go and discuss this with those guys under Gwawi. If we can get the forged evidence as soon as possible, we can also follow the clues to find the whereabouts of the assassin."

Victor said so, but Arthur and he did not agree.

After all, whether from the perspective of life experience or historical origins, the British and the Chouans, swineherds and peasants, are closer than to the July Monarchy government of Louis Philippe.

However, Arthur would not mind if he could help his old friend Lavidok. After all, in addition to the peasants who took action, the royalists also included the orthodox nobles who were responsible for the planning behind the scenes and the funding from an unknown country.

For a newly promoted Foreign Ministry agent, these were great opportunities to add luster to his or her thin resume.

Not to mention, the girl named Clara seemed to be the former mistress of Mr. Thiers, the little giant of Paris and president of the Senate.

(End of this chapter)