Chapter 2339: You Little Bastard, Are You Trying to Get Sir Killed!

Chapter 2339: Chapter 292: You Little Bastard, Are You Trying to Get Sir Killed!

Arthur stared into Pinkerton’s eyes, shaking his head slightly and said, “Alan, you’re too naive.”

Pinkerton was forced to blush by Arthur’s barrage of responses, and regardless of his youthful pride or his persistence as a member of the Radical Party, he wasn’t about to admit defeat here.

“You say I’m naive? But who exactly is naive?” He raised his head, arguing for his stance, “Do you know about the matter in Louisiana? Two free black men, free, spent three years saving money to buy land and became independent small landlords. But in Britain? In Britain, a free craftsman wanting to buy land? Let’s not talk about buying land; he couldn’t even rent a leak-free shack without looking at the landlord’s face.”

Hearing this, Arthur didn’t refute, not because he couldn’t, but because he felt such a dialogue was no longer necessary.

Just when Pinkerton thought Arthur was going to continue debating with him, Arthur suddenly reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope, slapping it against his chest with a “pop”.

Pinkerton was taken aback, instinctively grabbing the letter, “What is this?”

Arthur leisurely put on his gloves, “Don’t lose it, take this letter to Mr. Washington Irving in Troy, New York State. He will show you the ideal country in your mind.”

Pinkerton blinked, “Who? Wait, what are you saying?”

Before he figured out the situation, the carriage suddenly jerked to a halt, the sound of wheels rolling over cobblestones abruptly stopped.

The coachman’s deep voice came from outside, “Arrived, Sir. The pier.”

The pier?

Pinkerton didn’t have time to clear up the questions in his mind before he heard Arthur snap his fingers sharply, followed by the sound of someone yanking open the carriage door from outside.

A cold wind wrapped in the salty stench of dead fish rushed in.

Two burly men with shoulders as wide as tree trunks charged into the carriage from the shadows, effortlessly pinning Pinkerton down onto the seat.

“Hey! You guys! Let go of me! Who are you people?”

Pinkerton’s protest was interrupted by a rough voice barking, “Shut him up!”

A rag was stuffed into Pinkerton’s mouth, a black cloth sack covered him, and his world instantly plunged into darkness.

He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t say anything, he could only hear his uncle Arthur and the two thugs chatting.

“No tails behind us, right?”

“Sir, no worries, we know how to do our job.”

“Mm, after the job, go to Nightingale Mansion to collect your reward, this time at double the usual rate, if Miss Ivan asks, say it’s my instruction.”

Pinkerton stiffened inside the sack, he even forgot to struggle.

It was only now that he truly realized Arthur never intended to discuss national systems, poverty, or injustice with him from the start.

The whole carriage ride, the probing, interrogating, debating, applauding, everything was merely to smoothly deliver him to the pier.

Through a gap in the sack, Pinkerton faintly felt Arthur was staring at him, but the long gaze eventually just turned into a simple, “Take him away.”

Pinkerton didn’t have time to shout the next sentence before two huge hands yanked him by the shoulders.

He was dragged out of the carriage.

Rain splattered on the sack.

Feet thudded against the wooden dock.

The carriage door slammed shut behind him.

Arthur watched as the sack containing Pinkerton was carried onto the ship bound for New York.

Only then did he slightly raise his hand, ordering, “Let’s go.”

In the front seat, Whickriff asked, “Sir, where to next?”

Arthur took off his mud-splattered white gloves, casually tossing them onto the seat beside him, “To Scotland Yard.”

Whickriff responded lightly, shaking the reins, and the carriage re-entered the cobbled road.

Wheels trundled over puddles, the splashing dirty water swept past the windows, the sound of the vehicle quickly carried away by the river breeze, as if the carriage had never visited Thames Pier today.

…

Bow Street, May 16, 1838

To all officers in the London Metropolitan Area maintaining the peace for Her Majesty the Queen:

After thorough interrogation and intelligence comparison, there are reasonable grounds to suspect the following individual:

Alan Pinkerton

Male, nineteen years of age, originally from Glasgow, former London University student, currently residing in Klerkenwell.

Involved in the following actions:

Repeated unauthorized contact and attempt to inquire about matters relating to coronation ceremony security arrangements. Though no improper societal impact was caused, such contact is deemed improper engagement with public affairs.

Privately conveying or suggesting such intelligence content to unknown groups holding radical views, potentially threatening public order and the peace of the Kingdom.

During formal police questioning, deliberately concealing communications with several political agitators, suspected of cover-up.

The aforementioned actions are felony-level, potentially leading to urban unrest and hindering the successful conduct of Her Majesty’s coronation ceremony, hence providing ample cause for immediate apprehension.

Suspect’s description:

Age: Nineteen years

Height: Five feet nine inches

Hair color: Dark

Build: Slender

– Formerly registered as a student at London University

– Last seen wearing a dark coat and high boots

– Known to be involved with several political dissidents

Anyone aiding, harboring, or intentionally providing means to evade judicial trial will be pursued under statutory law for corresponding charges.

Hereby commanded to capture Alan Pinkerton and escort him to Bow Street Magistrates’ Court for further interrogation.

In accordance with the command of the Middlesex County Magistrate’s meeting

Sir Richard Burney

Chief Magistrate of Bow Street Magistrates’ Court