467: Chapter 255: If He Seeks Revenge in Later Years, Blood Will Stain the Mouth of the Thas River (5K)_2 467: Chapter 255: If He Seeks Revenge in Later Years, Blood Will Stain the Mouth of the Thas River (5K)_2 “You’re right, college students can’t handle our kind of work.
When criminals get tough, they won’t give you a chance to discuss theories.
Before you can speak, a flick of their little hand might pierce your lung.”
“We teach ourselves, although we can’t compare to college students, what we learn is practical!
Inspector Hastings should indeed give us frontline brothers a chance.
I can recognize all twenty-six letters, and the rest is just about morizing, right?”
“So, what exactly will our internal selection exam cover?
Sir, I’m not asking you to leak the questions, but can you define the scope for us?”
At this point, seeing Tony’s pipe had gone out, a police officer quickly dug out his own matchbox and offered it with a smile: “Sir, you keep this box of matches for now; I’ve got more.”
“Thank you for that.”
Tony took the matchbox, and just as he was about to take a match, he found two shilling coins neatly placed inside.
He looked down at the matchbox, deliberated for a mont, and ultimately pocketed it.
“I really don’t know what the exam will cover.
After all, Inspector Hastings has been very busy recently, and setting the test paper has been a low priority.”
Upon hearing this, the officer who passed the matches couldn’t help but look a bit disappointed: “Oh, is that so…”
Tony shrugged: “However, the other day when I was delivering docunts to Inspector Hastings, I accidentally saw ‘The Philosophical Principles of Chemistry’ by Sir Humphry Davy, Faraday’s ntor, next to his desk.
It’s a very interesting book, and I’ve been reading it recently.
If you’re interested, you might consider buying a copy.
I believe this knowledge could help with your police work.”
“Ah…” the officers couldn’t help but be overjoyed: “Sir, no wonder you’re the backbone of the Criminal Investigation Departnt; your knowledge really is broader than that of the average officer.”
Tony put away his pipe and raised an eyebrow: “Now that the smoke is finished, let’s get back to work!
Tonight is Inspector Hastings’ solo show, and if anyone sses this up, I think you can forget about worrying about the exam.”
“Understood, sir!
We’re heading back to duty now!”
The officers smiled broadly at Tony, saluted, and then jogged out of the alley.
Tony leaned against the red wall and sighed deeply, just as he was about to relight his pipe, suddenly he saw Tom sprinting past on the street in front of him.
Tony quickly called out to him: “Tom, what are you doing?”
Turning his head and noticing Tony smoking, Tom couldn’t help but feel infuriated.
He slapped the pipe out of Tony’s hand and scolded: “Tony, you still have the nerve to smoke?
The post up ahead just intercepted nearly thirty pounds of black gunpowder.
Smoke a little longer, and both of us might as well skip eting Arthur and go directly to report to God!”
“Ah?!”
…
Inside the temporary guardhouse next to the Astley Circular Theatre.
The newly promoted police chief of Whitechapel, the progressive youth Ledley King, leaned back in his chair, legs propped on his desk, eyeing the dirt-smudged French fat man and the flamboyantly dressed Jewish young man sitting in front of him.
Disraeli’s face wore a smile, while Great Dumas exchanged a dismissive glance with him.
However, that single glance seed to instantly enrage the newly progressive young officer.
Chief Ledley suddenly stood up and slapped the table: “Speak!
Where are you from, where are you going, what’s the composition of your household, what nationalities do your family mbers hold, what social connections do you have, and did any of your ancestors happen to be emperors?
If so, did they fight in the Battle of Waterloo?”
Great Dumas had initially thought of challenging this disrespectful young officer, but the barrage of questions overwheld him, leaving him dazed.
Great Dumas paused, then frowned and asked: “How did you know I’m a proud and honorable citizen of France?”
Taken aback, Ledley muttered: “Huh?
Did I stumble onto a good thing again?
Is it my fate to encounter Frenchn?
If I had joined the Royal Navy a few years earlier, I’d probably be wealthy by now, right?”
Disraeli, who had been very cautious lately in his bid for a parliantary seat, inwardly cursed his luck and whispered, “Officer, what are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” said Ledley, coughing and settling back in his chair.
He pulled out a paper and began: “First question, what’s your na?”
Disraeli weighed his options and decided to tell the truth; if he lied now, Arthur might not even know he and Great Dumas were locked up for his sake later.
That could complicate rescuing them further.
“Benjamin Disraeli.
Officer, I think there must be so misunderstanding here.”
As Ledley scribbled on the paper, he said: “No misunderstanding.
You two really carry yourselves like you’ve just co from working at a bakery, wandering out with a sack so casually.”
After he finished writing, Ledley asked another question: “Your father’s na.”
“Ah?
You need to know that too?”
“Quit your whining.
Are you going to tell or not?”
Disraeli, left with no choice, honestly replied: “Isaac Disraeli.”
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