Chapter 2340 - 292: You Little Bastard, Are You Trying to Get Sir Killed! (Part 2)

London, White Hall, Home Office.

When Arthur pushed the door open and entered his office, there was no small talk, not even enough time to take off his coat.

His old subordinate, Chief Inspector Charles Field from the Criminal Investigation Department, was waiting by the desk. As soon as Field heard Arthur’s footsteps, he immediately stood up. But before he could speak, Arthur had already angrily thrown the warrant that had just been sent from Bow Street onto the desk.

Bang!

The paper hit the desk with a crackling sound.

"What is this?!" Arthur’s eyes were wide with anger: "A nineteen-year-old kid, a greenhorn who hasn’t even finished university, actually got in touch with core security arrangements on the eve of the coronation ceremony? How does Scotland Yard conduct its reviews?!"

Field was about to explain, but before he could speak, he noticed that someone was following behind Arthur—the Permanent Secretary of the Home Office, Mr. Samuel Phillips.

Field hastily removed his hat and began to explain the case: "Sir Arthur, what we currently know is that Allen Pinkerton may have connections with some radical political groups. He might have obtained information through private channels..."

"I don’t care who he heard it from!" Arthur walked to the desk, placing both palms on its edge, completely blocking the light from the window: "What I care about now is, where is this kid?!"

Field was never a timid person, but after spending so many years at Scotland Yard, he knew very well that Sir Arthur rarely lost his temper so violently.

He quickly explained: "Sir, we’ve dispatched three patrol teams to capture him, and the warrant for Allen Pinkerton has already been sent to nearby towns via the England Electromagnetic Telegraph Company’s stations."

"I asked where he is!"

Field was startled by the shout; he instinctively straightened his posture, a slight sweat seeping at his temple.

Just as he was about to continue explaining, Samuel Phillips, who had been silently observing the two, finally spoke up.

"Sir Arthur, I trust that Scotland Yard will handle the pursuit of the criminal properly. After all, it’s your old department, the institution you directly oversee, so it’s reasonable to have some confidence in them. Our primary issue now is how to provide a reasonable explanation to the ministers, the Prime Minister, and Her Majesty the Queen herself. We need to explain why, with the coronation ceremony’s countdown in progress, an unemployed, powerless nineteen-year-old was able to access information that could affect national security."

He paced, shifting his gaze from Field to Arthur: "Secondly, considering the detrimental social impact of this incident, I recommend as the Permanent Secretary of the Home Office that all personnel involved in this case, irrespective of their rank or whether it was due to negligence, a judgment error, or so-called extenuating circumstances, must be dealt with severely. In such circumstances, if the Home Office shows leniency towards those involved, the public might inevitably think the government is sheltering its own."

Saying this, Phillips paused to emphasize: "Lastly, there’s the issue of Scotland Yard’s joint program with the University of London to train officers. Although I have no doubt about the teaching reputation or educational quality of the University of London, I am concerned about its tendency towards radicalism. If necessary, I think the collaboration can be put on hold for now."

Hearing this, Arthur’s knuckles slightly moved against the desk edge.

He had long known that he would suffer a significant loss due to Pinkerton’s rashness, but he hadn’t expected Phillips to seize every possible opportunity.

Arthur slowly took a breath, as if crushing his reluctance in his chest, then looked up and said: "I understand, Mr. Phillips. This time, things have indeed gotten out of hand, and even if you didn’t mention it, I would take action myself."

This statement was spoken with exceptional calmness but also signaled Arthur accepting his defeat.

Phillips observed Arthur for a moment, confirming that he truly "understood," then resumed his usual courtesy, adjusting his cuffs as if preparing to conclude this "highly fruitful" meeting.

"Very well." His tone carried genuine satisfaction: "Sir Arthur, I am pleased you understand the gravity of the situation and happy to see you choosing to tackle the problem systemically rather than through personal emotion."

Phillips bent down to collect the warrant, as if tidily wrapping up a stage of work: "I will assist in handling matters with the ministers and the Prime Minister, ensuring as much as possible that their anger toward the Home Office remains within reasonable bounds."

Hearing this, Field visibly relaxed.

However, Phillips did not afford Arthur the same relief.

"As for the Buckingham Palace matter," Phillips said calmly, "that can only be explained personally to Her Majesty by you. The relationship between Her Majesty and you... is not something others can interfere in. And I believe she will only accept your explanation."

Arthur looked up at the ceiling of his office, confirming that he was indeed in the Home Office and not some alley in the East District, he finally dismissed the idea of giving Phillips a good slap.

"I will personally go to Buckingham Palace."

Phillips gave a slight, satisfied smile, the kind of polite victory smile unique to seasoned British bureaucrats: "Thank you for your efforts."

After saying this, he gave a slight nod to both men, then turned and left the office.

The office door closed gently, and the Permanent Secretary’s light footsteps gradually faded away down the corridor.