The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 797 - 374: I Will Return Triumphant (5K2)_2

’I have always thought that you cannot trust someone who is not a Republican by the age of 30, and you also cannot trust someone who is still a Republican after the age of 30.’ I remember your birthday, after this July 24th, I’ll let you do as you please. The path you chose is your own, and as a friend, I have already done all I could for you."

Having said this, Arthur suddenly stood up and took a wet handkerchief from his coat pocket.

Great Dumas saw Arthur approaching step by step and shouted angrily, "What the hell do you think you’re doing?!"

Arthur bent down, one hand supporting Great Dumas’s chin, and spoke with a hint of apology, "Sorry, Alexander, I know your capabilities, so I thought it best to handle you with care."

With that, without waiting for Great Dumas to speak, Arthur covered the Frenchman’s mouth and nose with the handkerchief.

At first, Great Dumas tried to struggle, but soon, he felt his consciousness blur, and his twisting body lost strength. Before losing consciousness, the phrase he uttered was still that French saying he taught Arthur.

"Je te dis merde!" (May you step in a pile of shit)

Arthur chuckled softly, "Alexander, I remember this one, it can also be translated as wishing me a stroke of luck, thank you."

Great Dumas’s eyes rolled back, and then, with a thud, his hanging head smashed onto the floor.

"Phew..." lying tied next to Great Dumas, Louis breathed a sigh of relief, "That worked fast! Looks like you were right, this new substance called chloroform really works as an anesthetic. Alexander sleeps like a baby; everything is settled, and I finally don’t have to continue playing this grand escape drama across France with him."

Arthur picked the still-lit pipe from the table and clenched it in his teeth again, "I have to say, your acting isn’t too bad, Louis. I dare say, even Victor himself couldn’t have done better than you. Perhaps you should consider changing professions; you would definitely become a world-renowned actor."

Louis, with some effort, rolled over and said, "Although I am indeed interested in drama, I always feel like the theatre’s stage is somewhat too small for me."

Arthur, leaning back in his chair, asked, "Then shall I send you back to France?"

"France?"

Louis paused for a moment, then continued, "The stage in France is indeed much larger than that of a theater, even too large for my capabilities. For now, I think Scotland Yard is the most suitable stage for me; it offers various roles for me to freely choose from. Today I can be a Republican, tomorrow a Bonapartist, and the day after a Royalist. I don’t mean any disrespect to those who earn a living this way, but I indeed think the role-playing at Scotland Yard offers me much more freedom than being bound by a script."

Having said that, Louis twisted his stiff neck and said, "But speaking of which, Arthur, isn’t it about time you untied me? Though I’m like Alexander, not new to being bound, to be honest, it’s quite uncomfortable."

Right after Louis had spoken, he caught a glimpse of Arthur’s ambiguously smiling eyes, and a sudden feeling of doom rose in his heart: "Arthur, you..."

Arthur, still smiling, asked, "Two things, one good, one bad, which do you want to hear first?"

Louis, staring at Arthur for a long time, took a deep breath and said, "The bad."

"Louis, you have been fired."

Arthur stood up and announced, "As Assistant Commissioner of the Greater London Police Department and the head of the London Police Intelligence Bureau, I inform you that from today, you have been officially dismissed from the Greater London Police Department and the Police Intelligence Department, no longer entitled to our rank salary and related benefits."

Louis fell silent, then he asked, "And the good side?"

Arthur, smiling, raised the handkerchief, "We’re dismissing you not because your work was lacking or that we intend to hand you over to the French government, but because we don’t want a noble Bonapartist like you caught up in the current unstable London political climate. In other words, Louis, you are free now. Congratulations."

"What the hell is good about that..."

Louis hadn’t finished speaking when the handkerchief was already pressed against his nose.

Perhaps because he didn’t have Alexander’s large size, under the same dose of chloroform, he didn’t even manage to utter a complete sentence before collapsing on the ground.

Arthur, kneeling on one knee, looked at the two friends, one fat and one thin, on the ground and leisurely tucked the handkerchief back into his coat pocket.

The Red Devil’s silhouette emerged behind him, Agares looking maliciously at the scene before him, revealing his sharp fangs and sneering malevolently.

"Arthur, it looks like today you will lose two good confidants. But I do admire your style, autocratic and unreasonable, that’s what a proper villain should be doing. Do you know why you were shot in Liverpool? Because you used to handle things too indecisively; you should learn to act more like a real man."

Arthur glanced at Agares beside him, his hand on the doorknob, replying, "Agares."

The Red Devil, leaning against the wall with interest, asked, "What?"