Chapter 2332 - 289: Graduation Examination of Arthur Hastings College_3

"Punished as a felony."

"If an officer omits certain specific words when reciting the Riot Act, the announcement is null and void. What are those words?"

"God save the King."

Upon hearing this, the examiner’s stern face finally couldn’t help but show a hint of a smile: "Alan Pinkerton, it’s not ’God save the King’ now, but ’God save the Queen.’"

As soon as he finished speaking, a light laughter echoed in the classroom.

But Pinkerton did not show any embarrassment at being corrected; instead, he stood straight without changing his demeanor: "Yes, Sir! The current declaration should be— God save the Queen!"

Hearing this, the examiner nodded. He did not pursue further questions, nor did he leave any marks on paper, but he looked at him with appreciation and said to the examiner beside him: "This kid sure is gutsier than his dad Tom."

The examiner next to him chuckled and relaxed back into his chair: "If Tom heard you say this, he’d probably curse right here."

He said this while turning his head to look at Pinkerton: "To recite regulations so accurately requires a lot of effort..."

He paused, tapping his fingertips lightly on the table: "Alan, have you made up your mind to follow this path no matter what?"

Pinkerton replied unwaveringly: "Yes, Sir! I must follow this path!"

The examiner across from him smiled helplessly, lightly tapping the table with his pen: "Then let me ask you, Alan, why do you want to become a police officer so much? Do you know your father always wanted you to find a more respectable job? He supported you for three years at the University of London, even scraping together funds for you to further study at the Lawyers’ Association. Have you really not considered it?"

Pinkerton stood there, not immediately answering.

But it wasn’t because he found the question difficult, since almost everyone in the classroom knew his background, almost everyone assumed it, but precisely because of this, it became his burden.

"Report!"

"Speak."

"My biological father was a police officer, my adoptive father is also a police officer, so I too must become a police officer!"

The examiner heard this and restrained his smile, leaning slightly forward, his tone becoming serious: "So, is this your answer?"

"Yes, Sir." Pinkerton straightened up: "This is my answer!"

The eldest examiner lightly marked a tick on the document in front of him, then closed the folder, lightly exhaling as if he had obtained sufficient information: "Sit down, Alan, and I hope you remember the words you once said."

With that, he looked towards the back row: "Next."

Before the words were fully spoken, a faint sound of a door opening suddenly came from the back of the classroom.

Light poured in from the corridor side, casting a straight line of brightness on the wooden floor of the classroom.

Standing at the door was a man in a dark coat.

His attire was not lavish, even restrained, without a sword or extravagant decorations. But the cut of the coat was extremely refined, with straight shoulders and well-fitted cuffs, the material showing a near-matte dark color under the light, only displaying subtle textures when he slightly turned.

He stood there, not speaking immediately.

Nor did he immediately step forward.

But at the same moment, the examiners in front of the classroom showed an almost unanimous reaction—

The sound of chair legs scraping the floor suddenly rang out.

One, two, three...

As if some ingrained reflex, all the examiners stood up almost instantly.

The movements were decisive, without communication, without hesitation.

The shoulder patches swayed slightly upon standing, the folders were instinctively closed, and the gaze that had just carried an assessing intent was now restrained and courteous.

"Sir."

It was unclear who first spoke softly, but soon this title reached a silent consensus in the classroom.

Arthur stood at the door and finally stepped inside.

His steps were not fast, yet very steady, each step seeming to follow a familiar rhythm.

His gaze swept across the classroom but did not linger too long on any of the cadets; instead, he paused briefly at the examiners’ desk, as if confirming the pace and order of the assessment.

"Sorry to interrupt everyone." His voice was not loud, yet sufficient to quiet the entire classroom: "Got delayed on the road."