The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 556 - 286: How Much is the Life of a Police Inspector Worth? (7K2)_4

Having said that, Gladstone flicked his riding whip, sending dust flying on the path as the young man galloped off into the distance.

A few wealthy young men looked at each other.

"That’s it, fellas, with one horse less, it seems like we can’t continue hunting."

"So, what shall we do next?"

Steve, one of the wealthy youths, glanced at the small axe Gladstone had left behind and the vast stretch of woods, stroking his chin as he suggested, "How about we compete in wood chopping?"

Upon hearing this, the wealthy young men looked around at the open fields and the clear blue sky, and ultimately dismounted their horses.

"Alright, I’ll go first."

Agares, lying in the tree, heard this and yawned, stretching lazily. Disgusted, Red Devil spat out a mouthful of spit: "Damn it... one is more useless than the next."

...

Liverpool, the old docks, Gladstone Import and Export Trading Company.

In the meeting room on the third floor, smoke curled in the air.

It was packed around a conference table made of Danish camphor wood imported from the Baltic Sea, and the table was covered with the black bowler hats casually taken off by the guests.

In the midst of a scene that seemed like a fairyland shrouded in clouds and mist, one could vaguely see gleaming objects shining a greasy luster, like little suns.

Such an iconic scene was enough to reveal the identity of the attendees—all of them were genuine British gentlemen. Any one of them, on their own, was influential enough to cause an earthquake in Liverpool’s import-export trade, and even affect the price fluctuations of certain commodities in Britain.

Their business routes covered the tobacco and sugar trade between the West Indies and West Africa and the grain trade between England and Ireland. They also took care of the timber and cotton goods going back and forth between America and the coasts of the Baltic Sea. Of course, they had not forgotten Liverpool’s traditional industry—fishing in Greenland was also one of their areas of interest.

Old Gladstone, with a pipe in his mouth, supported his brow with one hand as he looked down intently at the document in his hand, and asked without lifting his head, "I heard he asked Customs for the declaration forms yesterday?" fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

"That’s right." The middle-aged gentleman sitting to his left ran his fingers through his sparse, stubborn hair: "The Customs office had already sent over the declaration forms yesterday afternoon."

"Oh?"

Old Gladstone set down the document, leaned back in his chair with his arms folded and said, "So they conceded to London that easily? That’s not like their style!"

The elderly gentleman to the right of Gladstone removed his glasses and said, "I heard that Whitehall is truly up in arms this time. It seems the High Chancellor is quite dissatisfied with the dockside disturbance that broke out in Liverpool a while ago. Just a few days back, Earl Grey, the Prime Minister, directly reprimanded the head of Customs and the Trade Commission, demanding they provide a written explanation for what happened in Liverpool."

The Customs and Trade Commission, having taken offense, obviously couldn’t just stew in their own juices—they kicked the ball over to the Liverpool Port Authority and demanded a written report, ensuring there would be no repeat of the same mistakes.

Even if the Port Authority had a backbone of steel, they wouldn’t be foolish enough to resist under these circumstances. If they wanted to strike back, they’d at least wait for the storm to pass. Hastings was sent from London, carrying orders from the Lord Chancellor’s office, Navy Department, Home Office, and Customs. Public appearances had to be maintained.

"So it’s just for show?"

"Exactly, the same old routine. They left some trivial errors for that young man to discover, after all, he too needs to report some achievements back to London. And customs work, too-perfectly conducted, would seem suspicious. Better to give him some direction than to have him blundering about like a headless fly—we can at least foresee what he will inspect."

"Nine thousand six hundred pounds of tea undeclared, seven thousand three hundred pounds of tobacco misreported as a domestic rather than international shipment, half a hold of incorrectly valued luxury clothing, and various bits and pieces of industrial materials. We’ll just distribute the cost and put on a show of arguing when the Customs and Tariff Department come to collect. If we lose the case in court, we won’t appeal; it’s a battle that cannot and should not be won."

"He finds something to investigate and earns merit. The Cabinet discovers issues and gains reputation. Our loss is within acceptable limits, without affecting future business—that’s cause for everyone to be happy."

At this point, the gentleman sitting opposite old Gladstone simply rubbed his bald head and raised his finger to tap his skull: "If things can be resolved smoothly, then all the better. But my concern is, I’m afraid he won’t be satisfied with these small fry and will insist on fishing for something bigger."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the gentleman by the window broke in irritably, "We’ve given him so much already, what’s there to be dissatisfied about? In my younger days, how much did I earn by shipping a sturdy black to America? A perilous journey from Britain to Africa, and then from Africa to America, at least a third to half of a shipful of blacks would die. After deducting crew wages and ship damage, a slaver ship carrying four hundred people netted a mere 8,000-10,000 pounds. Now without lifting a finger and just sleeping in a hotel, we’ve handed him the profit of two slaver ships, that’s already quite generous."

"Lowey, no need to get angry. I’m not saying he will definitely do this, but we have to consider that he’s a young man. We were once in his position too. Like you in your younger days, you braved malaria and hardships to trade slaves in Africa, but now that you’re older, would you really take such risks again? Youth always want to swallow the big fish in one gulp, wanting to devour a watermelon whole without considering they could choke—that’s the folly of youth."

"Let’s not keep saying ’blacks.’ Britain has abolished slavery now; what we are doing is legitimate business."

"How is slave trading illegitimate? Parliament might decree it so, but God hasn’t said as much."

"Enough! We’re here discussing the youth’s matter, why drift to the topic of blacks? You can use a whip on a slave, but would that work on a Scotland Yard detective?"

"Whether it works isn’t up to us, it depends on Officer Hasting’s own ideas. Speaking of which, what’s his background?"

"I sent someone to inquire in London, and his situation is a bit complicated. He seems like someone who’s in trouble, thus stuck with this thankless task in Liverpool, yet he also seems to be seen favorably by someone up high who wants to boost his achievements."

"Use the Liverpool port as a stepping stone to gain accomplishments? That’s crazy. Ninety percent of the nation’s cotton comes through Liverpool, a shutdown here and all of Lancashire’s textile mills would have to cease production. The Cabinet would send an experienced person to handle this, not some greenhorn. If you say he wasn’t set up, I wouldn’t believe it."

"Whether he has been set up, I’m not sure. But I do know he’s a University of London graduate, a favored pupil of Lord Chancellor Brougham, and a trusted lieutenant of Sir Peel. Though you’re right about one thing—Brougham is a bit touched in the head."

"A trusted lieutenant of Sir Peel? If that’s the case, the Whig Party is currently in power. If he was promoted by Peel, and fails to perform in Liverpool, wouldn’t the Whig Party have little hesitation in pulling him out?"

"That’s why the more we talk, the clearer things become. Now it’s pretty obvious why this lad was sent to Liverpool."

Old Gladstone mused, "Then the question now is how we should approach him... Do you have any thoughts?"