Chapter 1012: Chapter 62: Restaurant Riot_3
“Hm… slick-tongued kid.”
Just as Clara finished speaking, the tavern’s door creaked open.
With the sound of heavy footsteps and a noise as coarse as a saw cutting wood, a few n who were clearly no good entered the place.
What was puzzling, however, was that the man leading this group did not look as fierce as his followers. His appearance stood out even among the pedestrians on the street.
Although Arthur was seeing him for the first ti, the man’s appearance imdiately made it clear to him that this was the gang leader Victor had ntioned—Gervais.
Despite the common belief that people’s hobbies change with age,
philosophers often assert that a person’s habits in youth only grow more intense with age.
This was perfectly exemplified in Gervais, who at just over ten years old was already a little drunkard, and now, in his well-established age, his alcoholism had indeed beco even more severe.
Perhaps “well-established” is not the most appropriate term for a gang leader, but compared to France’s vast population, truly distinguished individuals are very few, and their success is almost determined at birth.
Therefore, such people are rarely the role models for the French public, whereas self-made individuals like Gervais, who couldn’t read more than a few words but made a na for himself in Paris through ‘cunning’, beco in a way unsavory folk heroes.
But regardless of whether he’s a hero, the habit of drinking has left its marks on his large face.
Gervais’s Nose had beco enormous, nearly like the capital A on a British legal docunt, with cheeks full of blood vessels resembling grape leaves’ veins, tinted red and purple, dotted with small lumps, and slightly adorned with fine hair.
His entire face seed like a shriveled autumn leaf wrapping an oversized mushroom.
His thick eyebrows were like two small snowy trees, and beneath them, his small eyes were lively yet revealed a habitual greed and cunning. Surrounding his bald head was a circle of graying hair, slightly curly, resembling a pleated skirt set atop his head.
Worst of all, like all distinguished figures in France, he was short and bore a bulging belly, walking as if he were an old, oil-draining lamp, seeming that even the slightest sway might spill the lamp oil.
Moreover, his taste in clothing left much to be desired, with a militia tricorn perched atop his head, wearing a velvet vest and pants of questionable green, a brown old cloak, colorful stockings, and shoes with silver clasps.
Though this style was quite popular, on Gervais, it made him look like a large drunk barrel covered with a quilt.
As Gervais entered the tavern, soone eagerly approached him.
They spoke flattering words, not quite genuine, rely in hopes that the notorious bandit leader in the Saint-Germain district would toss them a tip, or offer them so lucrative job.
Upon seeing Gervais enter the tavern, Arthur feigned ignorance and asked Clara, “Who’s that?”
Unexpectedly, Clara’s face turned gloomy, and she gently tugged at Arthur’s sleeve, cautioning, “Don’t get involved with him. After this al, go ho. This isn’t a place for soone like you.”
Arthur nodded in vague understanding, refraining from approaching Gervais and instead heeding Clara’s advice by focusing on his Marengo chicken.
Although Arthur’s goal was to get close to Gervais, judging from Clara’s tone, the young lady was keen to avoid trouble with that bandit leader.
Arthur had a good impression of this girl, so he didn’t want to cause her trouble. Since Gervais was already in the tavern, he had his ans to close the distance with the man soon. Not to ntion, with Victor there, even if he didn’t act, the Parisian Sleuth should handle things.
However, although Arthur didn’t actively cause trouble for Clara, Gervais imdiately fixed his gaze on Clara’s position.
The over fifty-year-old bald drunkard strolled up to Clara, naturally wrapping his arms around her pale neck from behind, rubbing his gray stubble against her face: “Darling, do you still like what I gave you last week? Now, all the ladies in Paris are after Guerlain perfus and Breguet watches. Having both now, can you taste the sweetness of happiness?”
Clara rolled her eyes, muttering without turning back, “Oh please, who knows which noblewoman’s room you pinched these from. Even if you give them to , I wouldn’t dare to wear them openly in the street. Besides, the police always watch girls like , stopping for a check the mont they see . But I can’t really bla them. If I saw a girl in a tattered dress without any fine jewelry yet slling of high-end perfu with a Breguet watch, I’d be suspicious too.”
“Oh…” Gervais chuckled, “Darling, that was careless of . I should have thought of getting you a new dress made at Place Royale. But it’s not too late to think of it now. I’ll have soone get it custom-made right away, ensuring you can wear it to church next week.”
Clara twisted around, wrapping her arms around Gervais’s neck, coyly complaining, “Darling, why bother? The one you ordered for Fran is ready for pickup, isn’t it? Why not give that to and let her order a new one?”
No sooner had Clara spoken than the girls at the neighboring table, who had been flirting with others, imdiately jeered, “How can soone be so shaless? Stealing soone else’s lover and then their dress!”
At these words, Clara’s willow-like eyebrows shot up: “I thought I heard a black cat ow, oh, no, I heard wrong. It’s actually a few plucked hens!”
The girls, upon hearing this, imdiately picked up the plates in front of them and hurled them at Clara: “Screw you, you bitch!”
“Ah!”
Clara was drenched in grease, screaming as she grabbed her Marengo chicken and smashed it on her attacker’s head: “You pile of horse dung think I’m easy to bully?”
Their screams, as if heralding a battle cry, quickly divided the tavern girls into two factions, tearing and fighting each other.
Only then did Arthur belatedly realize that these girls had factions.
Initially, Gervais was also startled by the girls’ commotion, but in an instant, the battle-hardened bandit leader turned shock into anger, slapping the bar counter and shouting, “Stop that, all of you!”
But at tis like this, no girl would listen to him. He only managed to say half a sentence before stopping.
This wasn’t because Gervais’s lung capacity was lacking, but because just as he opened his mouth, a chicken bone got lodged in his throat.
The Saint-Germain district’s notorious figure clutched his throat and fell to the ground, almost passing out.
anwhile, Arthur, seeing the situation spiraling out of control, also tried to manage the scene, but British experience evidently didn’t apply to Paris, France.
Arthur had just stood up to separate Clara from the fighting girls but was imdiately hit on the head with a plate.
Fortunately, the plate wasn’t iron, so Arthur only felt mildly dazed, soon recovering, and positioned himself between the two girls.
The two girls didn’t care that this gentleman was taller and stronger than them, nor did they care about the possibility of him taking advantage, especially since Great Dumas had already started doing so.
But the vigilant Victor seized the opportunity and slipped out of the tavern, soon followed by police whistles sounding outside.
Then ca several gunshots, accompanied by the girls’ screams, as the Paris Police flooded the tavern.
“Everyone stay down and don’t move! Who was leading this just now?”
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