501: Chapter 267: The Arena of Fa and Profit (5K) 501: Chapter 267: The Arena of Fa and Profit (5K) Arthur heard these words, looked up, and took a glance at the girl standing at the door.
Her pale golden ponytail was wrapped at the back of her head with a neatly tied white scarf, and her quite new floral white dress, though not luxurious, looked fresh and tidy.
Add to that her sowhat uneasy expression and the hands that didn’t know where to rest but gently fidgeted with the hem of her dress, one glance was enough to tell that this girl must have just arrived from the countryside to the fog and industrial fus of London.
If Arthur had t this girl anywhere else, he would most likely have taken off his hat to ask if she needed any help.
As a police officer, Arthur clearly understood how crucial it was for such naive young won to take the right first steps in London.
Every year, countless carts full of young won harboring vain dreams ca to the cold London, hoping to find a well-paying job and perhaps even a suitable romantic match.
However, although harboring dreams is always delightful, it wouldn’t take long before this sinful city full of pickpockets, burglars, bandits, pimps, and kidnappers taught them a harsh lesson.
As far as Arthur knew, since the last century, there were so people in London specifically engaged in the business of exploiting these young won, ticulously organized and skilled, luring these newcors into the trade of customs.
If it were outside, Arthur would most likely not consider such a girl a threat and instead, politely warn her, “Beware of the abyss that lurks everywhere in London.”
But now, Arthur had no such thoughts, because he distinctly rembered his recruitnt ad in the newspaper listed 36 Lancaster Gate as the location, a cottage he never disclosed as a secret liaison site for the Police Intelligence Departnt.
How on earth had this girl found this place?
And how did she know Arthur Hastings was sitting here?
Arthur signalled Louis with a look, then smilingly said to the girl, “Co in, it’s quite cold outside.
A fire’s been lit in the room, and you can have a cup of warm tea to warm yourself up.”
The girl simply thanked Arthur and placed her umbrella in the stand by the door, then lifted her skirts and sat down in front of Arthur.
Louis naturally closed the door, took a book from the shelf beside him and leaned against the wall by the door.
Arthur asked as kindly as possible, “Did you find this place because of the recruitnt ad in the newspaper?”
The girl, seeing Arthur’s friendly deanor, grew a bit bolder; she carefully took out a folded clipping from her knitted purse and spread it out in front of Arthur—it was indeed the help-wanted ad he had published.
Gathering her courage, she replied with a voice as confident as a nightingale’s, “Yes, sir.
Laundry, cooking, cleaning, and childcare, I am capable of performing all these tasks.
In addition, my needlework is also very excellent.”
Although the girl thought her response was quite good, it obviously did not satisfy Arthur, who wanted to ascertain her background, not her work capabilities.
With an attitude of not startling the snake in the grass, Arthur nodded to Louis, waited until he heard the click of the door locking, then smiled and continued to inquire, “Although it’s impolite to ask, to facilitate our upcoming conversation, may I be so bold as to inquire your na?”
The girl waved her hand, appearing to still be unaware of what was happening, “It’s alright, sir, I’m not a lady of the nobility and don’t mind it much.
My full na is Becky Sharp.”
Seeing that she was now trapped, Arthur no longer hid his intent; he poured her a cup of tea and smilingly asked, “Then, Miss Sharp, how did you know I was here?
I rember the address on the recruitnt ad in the newspaper wasn’t here.
I can assure you, not more than ten people in all of London, even in the whole world, know I’m renting this place, and yet you’ve most fortunately beco one of them now.”
Arthur had expected that with these words, Becky Sharp’s true intentions would be unveiled.
Unexpectedly, the girl with a Cambridge accent didn’t show the slightest discomfort but quite naturally offered up Fiona, “Mr.
Hastings, I almost forgot to tell you, Yvonne Miss told you should be here.”
“You’re Fiona’s person?”
Arthur’s brow imdiately furrowed upon hearing this.
This small house was specifically rented by him to et with informal employees of the Police Intelligence Departnt, usually frequented by undercover operatives such as textile workers’ associations, insiders from London’s political alliances, or informants from various criminal organizations.
Fiona, being one of the contact persons for the Police Intelligence Departnt, of course knew this place.
Becky Sharp’s cheeks flushed; she seed reluctant to bring up Fiona’s affair, “Well… If you must put it that way, but I don’t deal in those trades.
I am from Ely in Cambridge like Yvonne Miss, sowhat related to her.
The last ti she returned to our hotown, she was very impressive, boasting about being a maid in the Russian Embassy, having the best food and accommodation, and even earning twelve shillings a week.”
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