shadow of britain

Chapter 607: The Supreme Loyalty to Colonel Hastingoff

When Tsar Nicholas I toured around Russia, he often encountered situations where he needed to pledge allegiance to the emperor.

Once, when a local official met the Tsar, the Tsar asked him: "How can you prove your loyalty to me?"

Without hesitation, the official replied: "Your Majesty, I will build a statue for your merits."

The Tsar was puzzled: "Statue? But I haven't done anything worthy of commemoration."

The official smiled triumphantly: "Your Majesty, what you just said is the best proof of my loyalty!"

— Alexander Ivanovich Herzen, Political Satire Column, Free Russia, London, 1853

The police chief sat cautiously at the table, his hands trembling slightly, and his eyes glanced at Arthur from time to time, afraid that he had done something wrong.

His back was tense, as if he was sitting next to a pressure cooker that could explode at any time.

The atmosphere in the inn was more depressing than usual. The air around seemed to be frozen. Only the plate of smoked salmon on the table still exuded a strong smell of smoke.

Arthur was enjoying this simple but rare meal with relish. His appetite had been tortured by several days of bad weather and a tight wallet. The cold weather and lack of food meant that he had hardly had a decent meal in this small hotel.

The appearance of the smoked salmon did not look particularly eye-catching. Its color was a bit monotonous, with a thin layer of slightly yellow skin covering the orange-red fish meat, and the edges were a bit dry and hard.

Cut it gently with a slight crisp sound. The fish meat is firm but not dry, and a faint smell of woodwood permeates the air.

Although the cutting was not delicate and some of the slices were even irregular, under the dim kerosene light, the texture of the fish still outlined a simple beauty.

Arthur used his knife and fork to gently cut off a small piece and put it in his mouth. The moment his tongue touched the fish, it was as if it was filled with the warmth of winter sunshine shining through the mist. Although the taste was simple, it gave him a long-lost sense of satisfaction.

With every bite of fish he chewed, the delicate texture and smoky aroma intertwined, as if rewarding his hungry body and mind for the past few days.

The police chief was uneasy. He swallowed nervously from time to time, but he didn't dare to look at Arthur for too long.

He secretly observed Arthur's every move, and every time Arthur put down his knife and fork, his heart beat faster, for fear of missing some tiny detail that would cause the "imperial envoy" to be dissatisfied with him.

Whenever Arthur glanced at him casually, the director would immediately lower his head with a smile on his face and a respectful expression.

Arthur was only focused on enjoying the delicious food. Occasionally he looked up at the director's face and found that he looked pale, with beads of sweat unconsciously sliding down his forehead.

Arthur's mouth twitched and he laughed secretly in his heart.

Even when he was second only to the most powerful man in Scotland Yard, his officers were not so afraid of him.

Even a slippery loach like Ridley's attitude towards him is at most excessive flattery caused by the desire for progress.

As for fear...

Ridley had done a lot of bad things, but he was not so bad that he didn't dare to look Arthur in the eye.

Clearly according to the Russian official rank table, the sixth-rank military police colonel is not as high as Arthur's original position.

But when it comes to the desire to be an official, a Russian sixth-rank official has much more power than a British fourth-rank official.

Arthur filled his stomach, and contentedly took the white napkin that the shopkeeper had just cut to wipe his greasy mouth, and suddenly asked: "Skolnikov, how much salary do you get every year?"

"Ah I……"

The police chief was frightened by Arthur and said, "You are joking. Vitebsk is just a first-class province, not comparable to second-class provinces like Petersburg, Courland, and Lithuania. I am just a small police chief. I am only a ninth-rank official. I am satisfied with a salary of 250 rubles a year."

250 rubles?

Arthur calculated in his mind that even if the 250 rubles were all issued in silver rubles, it would be less than 30 pounds when converted into British pounds. This salary was not even as much as that earned by the porters who carried heavy bags at the West India Docks.

With such a small salary but living such a life, anyone who dares to say that this guy has not taken bribes must be crazy.

Arthur gently put down his napkin, a faint smile appeared on the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were fixed on the police chief in front of him.

Every smile and frown of Britain's 'old stage actors' can be used as a textbook in the theaters of London's West End. Just the slight disdain hidden in that smile is enough for the young actors in London to learn for ten or twenty years.

"Two hundred and fifty roubles, Skolnikov. Your salary is really meagre. Don't you get any living allowance from the province?"

The police chief's face turned even paler. He subconsciously lowered his head slightly, and his fingertips began to tremble slightly. "As for living allowance, of course there is some. But Druisk is a small place after all, unlike the provincial departments where the proximity to water and the moon are first. I heard that most of the ninth-rank officials in the province can live in official housing, and those who can't live there temporarily will receive an accommodation allowance of 160 rubles every year. But here, although I heard that there is a housing allowance, I have been here for eight or nine years and have never seen this money."

Arthur picked up the cup and took a sip of hot tea, then he began to speak in an official tone, imitating the old squire's bullying of the small shopkeeper: "This kind of problem does occur in the local area, but you have to understand the difficulties of the higher-ups. It's not that we won't give you some money, but the country's money supply is tight, so we can only owe it to you first. As officials of His Majesty the Tsar, in this difficult period, everyone has to tighten their belts and live a tight life. Skolnikov, you have to consider the overall situation!"

"That's nature, that's nature!"

The police chief echoed, "You don't know how expensive oil and salt are until you run a household. I, Skolnikov, am an official after all, and I understand these difficulties. You see, although I have never received the housing allowance, I have never complained. If there is money, it is the grace of His Majesty the Tsar. If not, it is also due."

After that, the police chief asked cautiously, "For a small official like me, it is normal to suffer a little. It is also for the purpose of doing a good job and having hope for the future. I went to the provincial capital to do business before, and I heard that the provincial prosecutor at the same level as you has an annual salary of 600 rubles. In addition, there is a housing allowance and food allowance of 550 rubles every year. Of course, this is all rumors from the subordinates. In reality, it should not be that high, right?"

If the police chief asked something else, Arthur might not know the answer.

But when it comes to the salary income of Russian officials, York, who studied at the University of London, has done in-depth research.

Besides, he has resources like Shubinsky around him. Arthur knows all about them clearly, whether it is literature or acquaintances.

A provincial prosecutor in a first-class province, with an annual income of less than 1200 rubles, can make the police chief jealous...

If he knew that the Russian ambassador to the UK had an annual salary of 45000 rubles, and on top of that he also received a 2000 ruble rent allowance, that would be unacceptable!

Arthur put on the arrogance of a man from a big city. "The annual salary plus subsidies is only 1150 rubles. A first-class province is a first-class province. Although I don't know how much prosecutors in St. Petersburg and Moscow earn, I have an old acquaintance who works in the Irkutsk Provincial Taxation Bureau. He is also a sixth-rank official with a fixed annual salary of 750 rubles and an additional subsidy of 1200 rubles every year."

The police chief's eyes flashed with a trace of jealousy and desire. He stammered, "Colonel, does this acquaintance you mentioned really have so much extra allowance?"

Arthur smiled slightly, put down the teacup, and wiped the corners of his mouth leisurely: "For those who work in the finance department, the closer you are to the money, the more benefits you will get in all aspects. Not to mention you, even if it is me, when I heard about his income, I would like to find out something wrong with him and exile him to Siberia. Oh, no, Irkutsk is already Siberia. This Bastard (German, literal translation: bastard, illegitimate child, faithful and elegant translation: raised by a maid, son of a bitch), he is not afraid of my magic weapon."

The police chief smiled and said, "Oh! Otherwise, everyone is looking forward to working in the provincial government or in a bigger place."

Unexpectedly, Arthur frowned when he heard this: "That's not right. You said that there are advantages to working in the province, I won't argue with you. But you said that there are advantages to working in the ministry, then I have to have a good talk with you."

Arthur's words had unwittingly let the police chief know that I was working in the ministry. Even the police chief himself was unaware of this, and was eager to hear the secrets of the various departments in St. Petersburg: "You... Please teach me." Arthur snorted, "I don't understand what the benefits of working in the ministry are. There is no source of income. If you work in the provincial government, the civil affairs office, and the tax bureau, the situation is completely different. There, you will see a man hiding in a far corner, scribbling something. His tailcoat is terribly dirty, and his face is simply spitting. But when he gets off work, you will see that such a lowly person lives in such a beautiful villa! If you give him a set of gold-plated porcelain teacups, he will not even look at them! If you bring these things to him, he will definitely say: "Such gifts are only given to doctors."

You have to give him a pair of fine horses, or a carriage with spring seats, or beaver skins worth three hundred rubles. Don't be fooled by such a person who speaks softly: "Please lend me a knife to sharpen my pen." But behind the scenes, he will strip the applicant down to his shirt. Yes, on the surface, everyone is a clean government, and everything is clear. But if this is really the case, the provincial government will never dream of a mahogany table in its life, and every section chief will have to call him "you". Really, I have to admit that this situation makes me angry. If it weren't for my noble and respected position, I would have resigned long ago."

At this point, Arthur picked up his teacup and looked around: "After all, although Druisk is small, it is a local government after all. You can also be considered a small provincial government, right? In my opinion, if I offer a cavalry colonel from Petersburg to exchange for the police chief of Druisk, you may not be willing to do so!"

Arthur's words were full of insults and veiled meanings, but the police chief didn't dare to say a word in reply.

He suddenly began to blame his old father-in-law in his heart. The imperial envoy sent by St. Petersburg was indeed not someone who could be easily dealt with by someone of his level.

He doesn't look like a young man of twenty-five or twenty-six years old at all. He is even more difficult to deal with than those old bureaucrats in their fifties and sixties!
The white fox on the snowfield and the beaver in the river dam are not as cunning as him!
The police chief was trying to make conversation, and said in a cold sweat: "Colonel, you are joking. Even if there are ten of me put together, I can't compare to you, the colonel! By the way, is your meal to your taste? If there is anything wrong, just tell me, I will prepare something else..."

His words were obviously flattering and cautious, as if he was begging for Arthur's forgiveness.

Seeing that he wanted to run, Arthur reached out and grabbed his sleeve, then recited a poem with a smile.

"The feast is all over the world! Sometimes in the evening,
The wine was poured and the dishes were cooked on the fire.

Laughter, words, songs – everything is beautiful!

However, the next morning, the day was poisoned.”

When the police chief heard this poem, he was so frightened that his soul almost flew out of his head.

He had never learned many poems in his life and was not interested in literature, but this "Feast" by Pushkin happened to be one of the few he knew.

The reason is very simple - this poem was banned in Russia.

As one of the heads of the agency responsible for carrying out the banning work, it was natural for him, the police chief, to first learn which poems were not allowed to appear in this land of ice and snow.

The police chief's heart skipped a beat and his face quickly turned from pale to slightly red, with cold sweat quickly gathering on his forehead.

Although he did not understand the profound meaning of the poem, he knew very well that the appearance of this line of poetry meant an ominous omen.

His eyes involuntarily lowered, his face stiffened, and his mouth slightly opened, but he could not utter a word.

Arthur noticed the police chief's reaction. He did not question him immediately. Instead, he leisurely picked up the teacup and took a sip slowly.

The veteran British spy understood that he had won an overwhelming victory in today's psychological battle.

In this unequal war, the head of the Druidsk Police Department, Manning, has been completely suppressed by the number three leader of the Royal Metropolitan Police.

"Don't be afraid, Mr. Skolnikov."

Arthur casually took out the pipe from the police chief's jacket pocket, struck a match, a burst of sparks flew by, and he shook it casually to extinguish the flame.

As the smoke rose, Arthur let out a long sigh of relief and put the matchbox into the police chief's pocket. "This is an old habit of mine. I just want to verify whether you are a member of the Decembrists or have any connection with the Happiness Association. Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you that I used to be in charge of monitoring Pushkin at the rural resort in Mikhailovskoye."

The police chief suffered a cardiac arrest.

This guy…

This guy……

This guy isn’t just the military police in the third inning!
And he must be the absolute elite among the gendarmerie!
The rising star that is most favored by His Majesty the Tsar and the top brass of the Third Bureau!

He is like the poisonous snake that tempted Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden!
And the snake was now wrapped around his neck, its body shrinking tighter and tighter until he could no longer breathe!

"You... you are right, Pushkin's poetry... is indeed 'special'."

The police chief stammered in response, his voice trembling slightly, and although he tried to remain calm, he could not hide the panic in his heart.

What on earth does he want to do?
Does he want money, or does he want to step on human lives to move up to the next level?
Arthur chuckled and stood up from the table. He walked around behind the police chief, suddenly leaned down, pressed his two clamp-like hands on his shoulders, and whispered: "Skolnikov, you are really smart. You see, I know what you are thinking. You may have compared me with "them" in your mind. You must know that people like me are often careless and disdain to confront head-on. You are just a small local official in this Druisk. How could you know how "unknown" the "tactics" of the third game are? ? Of course, it's better if you don't have the chance to know those. But you have to understand that whether you have the chance to know those means does not depend on you, but on me. One word can send you to heaven, and one word can send you to hell. But don't think about staying in the world. After meeting me, you no longer have that chance. One step forward and the sky is wide open, one step back and you will be shattered to pieces. Smart people know how to choose. Are you a smart person? Anyway, I think you are at least not stupid. Don't let me down, Skolnikov. You can't afford the consequences of disappointment. "

There was no trace of impatience in Arthur's words, but rather a kind of effortless provocation and discipline.

The police chief swallowed and his body shook uncontrollably.

Soon, he stood up like a spring, as if he had made a great decision, saluted Arthur and said, "Whether I am smart or not is not up to me. It depends on you. If you need me to be smart, I will be as smart as Aristotle. If you need me to be stupid, my brain can be as leaky as a sieve and I will forget everything. But no matter whether I am smart or stupid, I will definitely be the most loyal to you."

"Very good." Arthur released his hand from the director's shoulder with satisfaction. "Well, now I need you to show your loyalty to me for the first time."

"Just give me your orders!"

"Please pay the hotel bill for me. You have to pay double the amount. I am a generous person."

"Ah..." The police chief's calves felt weak and he almost fell to his knees.

He was mentally prepared to lick Arthur's boots, however, he didn't expect that the loyalty test would be such a trivial matter as paying the bill.

Arthur's smile suddenly turned cold: "Do you have a different opinion?"

"No, of course not!" The police chief ran to the store owner and said, "How much did the colonel spend on staying in the hotel? Please calculate it and send the bill to the police station before leaving get off work today. If someone asks you who asked you to come, just say that I asked you to go. Do you understand?"

The shop owner covered his forehead with his hands. If the weather hadn't been so cold, he would have almost thought he had a fever today.

Even that son of a bitch Skolnikov has started giving money, how new is that!

The shop owner shook the police chief's hand excitedly and thanked him repeatedly: "Thank you very much, sir! I will immediately count according to your instructions and send it over later!"

The police chief glared and half-moved aside to reveal Arthur who was sitting at the table behind him: "Why are you thanking me? You are such a jerk! You should first thank the colonel for taking care of your business!"

The inn owner was about to thank Arthur, but before he could open his mouth, the door of the inn was pushed open again, and the cold wind rushed into the inn, bringing snow and wind all over the ground.

The mayor, dressed in a gorgeous silver-threaded gown, led a group of Druid officials into the hotel and asked the innkeeper in a vigorous tone, "Do you have a guest who has stayed here for five days and five nights?"

(End of this chapter)