Shadow of great britain

The difference between men and women is that the older women get, the more they are keen on women's affairs. The older men get, the more they retreat from men's affairs.

——Chekhov's "Notes"

The wind is howling in the city, and the blizzard is like a white velvet blanket, covering the entire town.

The world outside the window has been swallowed by the cold wind and snow, the air is biting, and the snowflakes are flying in the wind, as if freezing all the vitality.

There are only traces of being almost submerged by ice and snow on the street. Occasionally, a few footsteps are heard, but they soon disappear in the endless white.

It was still noon, but the blizzard made the sky so dark that even the lights in the distance were covered by the heavy snow curtain. The whole world seemed to fall into silent silence.

The walls around the small hotel were covered with mold due to long-term dampness, and the air was filled with a mixture of old mold and oil smoke. The heavy carpet on the floor was tightly bonded to the ground, as if the carpet was born from the ground.

There were only a few pieces of weak charcoal on the stove, barely maintaining a weak heat, but it only made people feel a little warm, far from resisting the biting cold that seeped in through the cracks outside.

Arthur sat at the dining table, with a dim kerosene lamp on the table. Perhaps it was too old, and the inner wall of the lamp was scorched by coal smoke.

Such unappetizing lighting coupled with a simple Russian dinner, let alone eating, just looking at it makes people feel nauseous.

Pickled cucumbers, hard rye bread and a plate of slightly greasy beef stew.

Arthur picked up the bread and played with it in his hands. The stone-hard texture almost made him think he had picked up a piece of coal.

But after all, the knight was also born in poverty, and he had his own way to solve such a dinner.

He took out the knife Garibaldi had given him and sawed the bread into small pieces like sawing wood, then put the small pieces of bread into his mouth and held them for a while until the surface was wet with saliva. Then the knight vigorously pulled his cheeks to chew hard.

How to describe the taste of this bread?

You can never savor it as carefully as you would treat a delicacy.

The texture of this bread is not only hard, but even if it is chewed, you can still feel large pieces of grains between your lips and teeth. When you lick your teeth with your tongue, you can also sweep off several large pieces of unprocessed bran. The bread is sour and bitter. Not only does it cut your throat when you swallow it, but you can also feel a strange smell of mold in your stomach when you take a deep breath.

Fortunately, there is also a portion of beef stew to suppress the churning stomach, but it is limited to suppressing the strange smell.

This beef stew is far inferior to the Provencal stew in Paris restaurants. Not only is it bland and boring, it is seasoned with only salt, and the greasy soup has partially frozen in the cold weather, with pieces of solidified oil floating in the ginger-colored soup.

Putting all these things into his mouth, Arthur felt only the unhappiness accumulated in his mouth.

But what can he do?

The singing and dancing of London, the extravagance of Paris, and the arrogance of Göttingen are the treatment that Sir Arthur Hastings, an upper-class British gentleman, should enjoy.

And black bread, beef soup, and pickled cucumbers are the way of life that matches Artur Agaresovich Hastingov, a small civil servant and a fourteenth-rank civil servant of the Russian Empire.

Five days and five nights of hardship made Arthur's face even paler, and the only 200 rubles left on his body seemed to evaporate in an instant. Oh, maybe it's not appropriate to say that, because even with the remaining 200 rubles, after paying for the hotel's board and lodging and the fare to Druisk, there are only 110 rubles left.

And then, he has to rely on these 110 rubles to hold on until the day when Shubinsky, the 'Tsarist Russia', comes to rescue him, the 'Great British Jade Unicorn'!

If the situation is worse and Shubinsky doesn't come, then Arthur will have to find a way to get out of this hellhole alone.

These days, he has been to almost every government agency he can go to, including the city hall, the post office, and the police station. However, let alone meeting the mayor, the police chief and other prominent figures, he couldn't even break through the first line of defense set up by the guards. In Druisk, meeting officials is as difficult as finding light in the dark. And if he can't meet the officials, he can only go around in circles and can't do anything.

These fucked-up things are strung together to form an unsolvable knot.

If this continues, Arthur might really have to consider Agares' unreliable suggestion and find a place to hide and ask passing heroes to borrow some money for the journey.

After all, he is also a master swordsman of Fiore School, and he should be able to get started quickly in this business.

If he had known earlier, he should have learned more from Victor when he was in Paris.

That old guy is more than just a Paris detective. Although Victor only admitted that he had only robbed a few British merchant ships with French pirates during the Napoleonic Wars, Arthur felt that when this old guy was young and frivolous, he should have done a lot of robbing on land.

But then again, robbery is not very decent for Sir Arthur Hastings.

But then again, the robber was the thief Artur Agaresovich Hastingov, what does it have to do with the knight?

Alas...

It's true that a penny can make a hero fall, and a little kindness can move a chivalrous man.

I am Arthur Hastings, the cultural attaché of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland in Russia. In fact, I am not dead, nor have I lost contact. I have been living in a small hotel in Druisk. I now need 500 rubles to go to Petersburg to take up my post. Silver rubles or paper rubles will do. Give me the money, and when I arrive in Petersburg, I will immediately relieve you of your status as a serf, give you a piece of land, and make you a boyar master.

Will anyone believe this if I say it?

Oh! Even the devil doesn’t believe this kind of thing, so how do you expect people to believe it?

It is better to ask for help than to ask for help from yourself!

After all, Sir Arthur Hastings was a man who rolled out of the pigsty of Yorkshire, the gangsters of Greenwich, and the hail of bullets under the Tower of London. If he was defeated by such difficulties, wouldn't it be Are you going to be looked down upon by that old French lame Talleyrand?

Arthur picked up the big bowl and ate all the beef stew with great enthusiasm, even the oily spots on the rim of the bowl and the meat residue at the bottom of the bowl.

Don't underestimate this thing. If you want to squat outside the city hall for an hour or two in this cold weather, it's all because of this bit of meat!

Agares looked at Arthur's poor appearance, and exhaled from his nose with disdain. The red devil snorted softly, then picked up the gold-rimmed glasses he bought from somewhere, and held up a piece of parchment in his hand. The long article he wrote lovingly recited the timeless masterpieces written by Jazz.

"I loved studying when I was young. But because I was a farmhand from the York countryside, my family was poor, and my parents died young, so I couldn't get books to read. I could only borrow them from local book collectors in York, copy them by hand, and agree on a date to deliver them. Also, when the weather was extremely cold, the homemade ink made from charcoal ash froze into solid ice and my fingers couldn’t bend or stretch, so I still couldn’t relax from copying..."

Arthur could endure the material poverty, but he could not bear the mental ravage. He stared at the red devil and was about to repeat the story of Barr, but unexpectedly he heard the hotel door being pushed open.

The sound seemed extremely loud, echoing in the quiet hotel with only a few guests, breaking the brief tranquility.

Arthur raised his head and saw a figure as tall as a bear walking into the hotel in the darkening sky.

Although this man's back is a bit stooped, it does not prevent everyone from seeing that he must have been a quite strong young man when he was young.

It was a silver-haired old country squire wearing a bearskin hat and a fox fur coat. It could be seen from his shoulders covered with snowflakes that it was snowing heavily outside.

His hat looked a little wet from being exposed to the snow for a long time, and the cold weather made the old man's shoulders tremble slightly, as if he had just struggled out of the snow.

The shopkeeper's eyes lit up instantly, and the smile on his face was almost greasy, with a hint of flattery that couldn't be concealed. He hurried forward to greet him, almost grabbing the man's sleeves with his hands, and kept complimenting him: "Isn't this Mr. Zakharov? It's snowing so hard, you really dared to come here!" It’s really cold today, aren’t you freezing?”

The old squire frowned and seemed a little impatient, but he also knew that this was a local rule, and if he didn't deal with it a few words, it would be inappropriate.

He snorted softly, shook his snow-covered sleeves, and said coldly: "Well, the snow is a bit heavy. However, I still have to say that I still have to come to your place when I have time. After all, human relations are always complicated in this place, and if you don’t come here for a long time, don’t let people think that this place is so cold that even people’s hearts are frozen.”

The innkeeper heard that something was wrong, but he didn't dare to ask in detail. He just assumed that the old guy was in a bad mood today.

"Oh, sir, you are right. You came here in the snow and came here to have a cup of tea and a sip of the sour wine. You really brought face to our place!"

The shopkeeper's smile became even more exaggerated, and he whispered: "There is nothing interesting about our place. If you don't like it, we don't dare to force it. What can we prepare for you to keep warm? Our room and bed are warm. The pot is hot, so don’t be afraid of the food, it’s all homemade, it doesn’t take much care, just fill your stomach!”

The old squire was obviously not in the mood to listen to these flatteries. He took off his coat and hung it on the back of the chair. He waved impatiently: "Well, it's good to be warm. Don't delay. I went out today and accidentally called a few The beast that came out of the snow pressed against his chest, and his heart felt like it was pounding. He needed some good cod and strong wine to relieve it. "

"Okay! Just wait a moment, and the food will be served to you soon." The owner just got into the back kitchen, and soon came back. With a smile on his face, he asked: "Master, why don't you go sit in the small private room in the back room?" Wait? I'll keep the fire burning brightly to drive away the cold."

The old squire took out his cigarette rod, took out a match and lit a fire. He took a moment to glance at the shopkeeper and said, "You are so attentive today!"

The shopkeeper smiled and picked up the rag on the counter and wiped his hands. He stood hunched over the old squire and asked humbly: "You are worthy of being an eighth-grade civil servant and someone who has served as a clerk next to the Winter Palace. You are really worthy." Nothing can be hidden from you.”

The old squire crossed his legs and took a puff of cigarette, without even looking at the shopkeeper seriously: "Huh! I don't know you bitch yet. You are the most tricky business person in the city. You have to brave the wind and snow all the way." Taking care of your business, it’s okay if you don’t feel grateful That's all, you've got my idea! That means you've run into me, you've run into good old Grigory. If you run into those sons of bitches at the City Hall, the Municipal Court, and the Post Office, I’ve already taken you to prison for interrogation!”

The shopkeeper did not dare to echo the old squire's insults to the mayor and judge, but he also did not dare to disobey him, so he could only flatter him: "Who in Druisk doesn't know that you are the most kind-hearted sir, even if you are from the church?" The priest dare not say that he is more pious to God than you are. The land rent is the lowest among you. When it comes to donating money and materials to the poor and showing loyalty to the emperor, you are also the most active. Every time people on the street mention you, they say that you are really a benefactor from God. It is great for us ordinary people to see you. It’s like seeing God. It’s such a blessing to have you take care of me!”

I don't know if he was used to hearing such flattery, but the old squire took the shopkeeper's remarks quite calmly as truth.

Not only was he not ashamed, but he nodded while smoking and said: "Although everyone says that the people below have no knowledge, being ignorant does not mean that they do not understand things. In my opinion, if you become the mayor, you might be better than Ba Culkin did better!"

Seeing that he had made the old guy happy, the shop owner hurriedly hit the rails while the iron was hot: "You are really embarrassing me. How can a little person like me have such great blessings, let alone being the mayor? If I were to take a look at the face of His Majesty the Emperor, I was probably so scared that I collapsed on the ground and even forgot how to walk.”

When the old country squire heard this, he snorted: "Then your performance is better than that of the mayor! Bakalkin, let alone meeting the emperor, was so frightened that he peed when he heard the news about the imperial envoy's private visit incognito. Pants."

At this point, the old squire was worried that the shopkeeper would not believe it, so he raised his cigarette pole and pointed at a few policemen outside the window who were cleaning garbage in the heavy snow: "Look at those black animals wearing dog skins, look at their beating nature." . Don’t usually do the work. It's all ready, but I have to wait until the imperial envoy is about to arrive before I think of launching a surprise attack. This is like cleaning the pigsty and then putting up a sign saying "Exquisite Farm", but the imperial envoy doesn't have to smell it first when he walks in. Smell?"

However, when the shop owner heard this, he didn't have much reaction: "What is an imperial envoy?"

When the old squire heard this question, he just felt that he was just playing the piano to a cow. He waved his hands impatiently and said: "Ignorance is ultimately ignorant. You don't know it, the imperial envoy? You are the master who came from Petersburg to inspect!"

"He's from Petersburg?" the shopkeeper suddenly realized, "Then what grade of official is he probably?"

"Generally speaking, it must be at least a sixth- or seventh-grade..." The old squire saw that the shopkeeper was not surprised, and he quickly changed his words: "But this time is different from the normal situation. This time he was sent by the emperor himself. He must be a fifth-grade. A high-ranking official! I’m not sure which province’s military police commander he is!”

"Fifth grade? Nine, eight, seven, six, five..." The shopkeeper counted on his fingers. As he counted, he felt his calves trembling. Finally, he couldn't help but exclaimed: "Then isn't he better than The mayor is several levels higher!”

Seeing that he had been frightened, the old squire said triumphantly: "Don't worry, it's no big deal. When I was working in Petersburg, I was surrounded by such high-ranking officials."

The shopkeeper couldn't help but be in awe after hearing this, and his tone became more humble: "No wonder everyone respects you so much. In the past, I only knew that you were close to the emperor, but I never thought about it, even if you are in the same office as you. They are all great people.”

The old squire nodded slightly, enjoying the compliment from the shopkeeper. Suddenly, his nose twitched and his brows furrowed: "Damn it! Is my salmon burnt?"

"Ah!" The little shopkeeper hurriedly ran back to the kitchen: "I was so fascinated by what I heard that I forgot about the real thing."

"Then hurry up and go! The salmon is burnt, I can't spare you!"

The shopkeeper hurriedly ran into the kitchen, but just as he ran back, he came back again: "Master, I almost forgot to tell you, that's the one... Look, your son-in-law, our police chief, Scott Mr. Ernikov. Well... I know that security inspections are necessary, and he is also a diligent person, but is it too diligent to come to my place seven times a month? "

When the old squire heard this, he immediately changed his face and responded in an official tone: "Oh! Peter Alexandrovich, I also know that it is not easy for you to do business, but you must also be sympathetic to his difficulties. It is the emperor's decree to strictly control public security. The Decembrists, the Happiness Association, and the Poles are extremely dangerous. Risky. Of course, I know you are a loyal and conscientious businessman, but don’t worry about anything. Although inspections are frequent, once things are cleared up, won’t your safety be guaranteed? , the police department is relieved, and all of Druisk is relieved, do you think this is true? "

The shopkeeper replied with a sad face: "Master, of course I can understand your son-in-law's difficulties. But can you tell him not to take away a few salmon from me every time he comes to inspect?"

Hearing this, the old squire glared and slapped the table: "Presumptuous! What are you talking about? He was thinking about your safety. Do you know how violent those rebels are? He risked his life to conduct security inspections for you. You don't know the etiquette to entertain him It’s just a meal, he took it back and cooked it himself, which saved you the effort, but you are still dissatisfied! In my opinion, I am afraid that you are indeed connected with the Decembrists, and I think today’s meal is also good. Stop eating and go to the police station with me right away!”

The shop owner was so frightened that he bowed and apologized: "Look at my mouth, I was also instigated by those salmon. Don't be angry, I will stew all the damn things in the store and serve them to you for a good lesson."

After speaking, the shop owner hurriedly went into the back kitchen and never dared to come out again.

Seeing this, the old squire sneered, crossed his legs again and smoked happily: "Ignorance is ignorance."

But as he smoked, he always felt uncomfortable.

The old squire looked around and found that there was more than one customer in the store. At the small dining table in the corner, there was a young man in a tuxedo.

The young man wiped his mouth with a white handkerchief and glanced at him from time to time, as if he was thinking about something.

Druisk is just a tiny place, and there is no one in the surrounding area that the old squire doesn't know. However, this young man is a stranger he has never seen before.

Perhaps he is a foreigner trapped here by the heavy snow.

The old squire thought so in his heart, and his eyes couldn't help but look at Arthur's tailcoat.

You don't know until you see it, and you will be shocked when you see it.

The more the old squire looked at it, the more he could find the extraordinaryness of this dress.

After all, he was a clerk in Petersburg. Although he didn't mix in the upper class, he had seen a corner of the upper class.

That tailcoat, whether it is the tweed fabric used, the exquisite tailoring that can be seen everywhere, or even the white shirt with pleats that matches the tailcoat, is not something that ordinary people can have.

Such a dress must cost at least 800 rubles, right?

The old squire was secretly shocked: "This kid, I guess he is a young man who came out of a rich and powerful family to gain experience?"

Arthur found that the old squire was looking at him, so he simply didn't cover his eyes, but looked straight at him.

The old squire felt guilty when he was looked at by him, and his momentum could not help but weaken, and his eyes began to avoid everywhere.

When Arthur saw him like this, he couldn't help but feel a little annoyed: "Damn, this old rogue, why doesn't he come up to talk? He's full of wine and food, and now he wants to smoke a pack of cigarettes. And from what he said just now, the police chief is his son-in-law?"

For a guy like the old squire who looks fierce but is actually weak, the old cop in Scotland Yard has his own way of controlling him.

One of them is to put enough pressure on the other party before contact, not to take the initiative to contact, but to wait for the other party to come up and cling to him.

But for some reason, the old squire seemed to want to compete with Arthur in determination, and he refused to come forward.

Arthur rolled up his sleeves in a distracted manner, accidentally revealing a button badge on his cuff that Shubinsky had given him as a farewell souvenir in Leipzig. Unexpectedly, when the old squire saw the badge, he suddenly screamed and stood up: "You..."