The Shadow of Great Britain

Mrs. Peel's words were both soft and firm.

All present were discerning, and everyone could see that the finely-crafted parasol was of considerable value.

But if George Morris were actually summoned to testify in court, even if it killed him, he would never admit the high value of the item.

As a young MP who had only just emerged from a difficult election, being immediately tied to a bribery scandal would undoubtedly plummet his promising political career into the abyss.

While everyone knew that electoral bribery was nothing new, both the Whig and Tory parties conducted such affairs quietly under the table, tacitly maintaining silence about their competitors' bribes.

If anyone was foolish enough to bring this up explicitly, boldly committing such a great indiscretion, no matter their background, all would band together to suppress them.

George Morris, a newcomer with little experience, obviously lacked the courage to challenge both parties' bigwigs and the senior MPs, nor was he ready to disrupt everyone's livelihood.

The Magistrates' Court judge, of course, also understood what was going on.

He didn't even bother to summon George Morris to testify because he knew that guy would definitely not tell the truth.

If Morris were pushed too hard, he might even insist that the parasol was worthless.

Even if he claimed that all one hundred umbrellas were sudden inspirations in umbrella-making he had at home, and that they were prototypes made overnight, the judge would not be surprised.

Having served as a judge for over twenty years, he had seen too many such cases.

The judge pretended to ponder and said, "Mrs. Peel, considering your good reputation, I trust your judgment. But if this parasol is just an insignificant souvenir..."

Before he could finish, the jury members below had already started to jeer.

"And quite ordinary at that."

"Not worth a few pennies."

"Too shoddy even for my son's toy."

"Judge, how long do you think stealing a toy should be punished?"

The judge, reluctantly smiling, said, "Ten days should suffice."

The jury members could not help but burst into laughter upon hearing this.

"That's what you said."

"We think a verdict can be made now."

"Yes, we find little Adam guilty of stealing a toy."

Mrs. Peel, looking at the lively group behind her, also said with a smile, "Judge, it seems we don't need to hold an external consultation. The jury is unanimous in finding Adam Evans guilty, and you can pass judgment now."

The judge was glad to get this out of the way, as he had many more cases to preside over that day, and there was no need to waste more time on little Adam.

Thud!

The gavel fell.

The judge solemnly announced, "By the jury's verdict, the defendant Adam Evans is found guilty. Under the name of the London Magistrates' Court and in accordance with the relevant legal provisions, I sentence the defendant Adam Evans to ten days of imprisonment and a fine of one Shilling."

"Hurray!!!"

The jury members cheered.

Little Adam's eyes brimmed with tears; he couldn't stop thanking the judge: "Thank you, thank you, Judge."

The judge, while organizing the papers on his desk, smiled at little Adam and said, "You should thank Officer Arthur."

"Yes, I will." Little Adam turned to look at Arthur and deeply bowed, "Officer, you saved my life."

Arthur smiled, said nothing, but stepped forward to pat his shoulder, then pulled out a Shilling from his pocket and walked towards the judge.

"Judge, here is his fine, I've covered it for him."

The judge cocked his thick white eyebrow and joked, "You also want to take this from me? No chance. Paying this Shilling for little Adam amounts to more sincerity than I could gather attending church ten times. I can't keep this good deed to myself; take it back."

Arthur also joked, "Then, when you go to Heaven, remember to keep a good spot next to you for me."

"No need, Arthur."

The judge, standing up with his documents, laughed, "Because when that time comes, your spot will be closer to God than mine, and I will still need you to speak well of me before God."

"Within the bounds permitted by the law?"

"Of course, I am a judge after all."

The two exchanged a smile, and Arthur turned to bid farewell, "Goodbye then, Judge."

The judge's voice followed from behind.

"Will I see you here again?"

Arthur paused, "Probably not."

The judge fell silent for a moment, then said, "Arthur, hear my advice. Stick with it, or you'll regret it. You're suited for this line of work, and I can't think of anyone better suited than you. I hate all the policemen from Scotland Yard, but you are an exception. With you around, everything will get better."

Instead of responding to the judge's plea to stay, Arthur merely draped his uniform over his shoulder, stuffed one hand in his pocket, and gently waved the other at him.

Then, he walked away from the courtroom in silence, as if he had never been there.

The judge watched his retreating figure and sighed deeply.

"The young people these days…"

The clerk by the judge's side looked back at the old judge, then at Arthur who had already left the courtroom, and with a pen in hand, holding himself back for a long while, finally couldn't resist and got up to chase after him.

"Officer Arthur, wait a moment!"

The magistrate saw this scene and couldn't help but laugh and sigh deeply.

"These young people nowadays!"

Arthur walked out of the Magistrate's Court, with the bustling streets in front of him and clear skies above him.

The wind swept through the treetops, stirring up dust, and slightly blurred his vision.

Arthur raised his hand to shield his brows, looked up at the clear blue sky, and muttered, "Such nice weather, but the sunlight is too glaring."

A black carriage was parked on the street in front of the court, where a middle-aged gentleman wearing a black top hat and monocular gold-rimmed glasses was waiting.

He saw Arthur come out and greeted him with a smile.

"Hello, Officer Arthur."

Arthur scrutinized the gentleman's appearance and asked in confusion, "Do I know you?"

The man smiled, "You don't know me, but I know you. That was a brilliant speech, wasn't it? Even though I was just here to stroll, even sitting in the courtroom's spectator seats, I was moved by your captivating presentation."

"Thank you for supporting my work."

"To be honest, you epitomize the perfect image of a police officer for me. Calm, composed, wise, confident, just, ambitious, yet proportionate, your behavior is an exemplar, each word and deed worthy of emulation. You are the pride of Scotland Yard."

Arthur smiled weakly, his second compliment of the day.

"I don't know if I deserve such praise, but that's no longer important. Starting tomorrow, I will no longer be a police officer at Scotland Yard."

The middle-aged gentleman asked, "Are you really considering not continuing at Scotland Yard?"

Arthur nodded and tried to speak, but felt something was off.

His hand fumbled in his pocket and he suddenly found the pipe Eld had given him that morning. The tobacco inside had not been finished; he had only taken a couple of puffs before it went out, and now it could be put to use.

Seeing Arthur take out the pipe, the middle-aged gentleman naturally reached into his pocket, took out a match, and helped him light it.

Arthur took a deep puff, only to unexpectedly choke and tear up.

Still, he endured the discomfort and expressed his thanks, "Thank you for your help, sir."

The middle-aged gentleman smiled and said, "It seems you don't smoke."

Arthur took another couple of puffs, frowning, and replied, "Just started this morning. In the past, there was a rule in the team against smoking in public places, so I had never touched this stuff before."

"Then why are you learning now?"

Arthur held the pipe in his mouth, finding no joy in smoking it.

The taste was bitter and harsh, and the smoke from the burning tobacco was intensely irritating, making him feel uncomfortable all over.

"Once I've left this job, I'm going to sea. I've heard that to fit in with sailors, you need to know a bit about smoking and drinking, otherwise life on the ship will be hard."

"Have you already found a ship?"

"Yes. The Royal Navy's Beagle, they are preparing for a global scientific expedition and are in need of a naturalist."

The gentleman's eyes filled with regret, "Losing such an outstanding officer as yourself truly saddens me. It's a loss for Scotland Yard and the citizens of London. However, I respect your choice."

"Thank you for your respect. So, if fate allows, we'll meet again, sir. Thanks for the match."

With these words, Arthur walked away from there.

But he hadn't gone far when he saw officers Tom and Tony running out, tumbling over each other.

They chased after the direction Arthur was heading, shouting as they ran.

"Arthur, don't be reckless! We can't lose you! Ohohoho, I'm such a wretch, you shouldn't have to bear all this."

"My son will definitely attend the University of London! Even if Oxford and Cambridge don't charge tuition, he damn well will go to the University of London!"

The middle-aged gentleman found the scene somewhat comical and bittersweet.

As he was enjoying the spectacle of Tom and Tony's race, someone suddenly interrupted him.

"Sir, did you just see a man in a white shirt with a police uniform draped over his shoulders walk out of here?"

The gentleman turned to look, and the speaker was the young court clerk.

"Are you talking about Officer Arthur? Do you need him for something?"

"Yes, do you know Officer Arthur?"

The court clerk exclaimed with joy, "That's great! You see, I'm a court clerk, but at the same time, I also freelance as a reporter for a newspaper.

Officer Arthur's speech today was truly inspiring, so I would like to have it featured in our paper. Could you convey this request to him?"

The middle-aged gentleman pondered for a moment, then replied with a smile."

"I'll convey your message, and I believe he will not decline your request. May I be so bold as to ask which newspaper you're writing for?"

The court clerk replied shyly: "Well... it's not a major newspaper, just a small publication called The Observer. Why do you ask?"

The gentleman laughed, "Nothing serious, I just happen to know a few editors from The Times, and they have been worrying about a lack of articles recently.

If you wouldn't mind, once your article is ready, could you allow them to reprint it?

I believe they would reward you generously.

It would be helping me out as well as them. What do you think?"