"Inspections?" Conroy sneered, "If you were really here for inspections, those vultures wouldn’t have gathered outside, sniffing around. You’re the Sheriff, not an idle bystander. You have the responsibility to disperse these people, now, immediately!"

Conroy’s attitude was so resolute that it brought beads of sweat to Murphy’s forehead.

He felt quite uncertain, especially after seeing Arthur go up to the third floor and not return for a long time. He had no idea what was happening upstairs.

Conroy did not want to personally disperse the reporters, and naturally, as Sheriff, neither did he.

After all, no one wants to be in the papers thanks to those chatterboxes, becoming the laughingstock at teatime across Britain.

Murphy figured he couldn’t change Conroy’s mind, so he walked over to the Duchess of Kent, carefully reminding the lady who could actually make decisions, "Your Highness, if we use force to disperse the reporters... it might provoke a stronger backlash. In my opinion, the best course of action now is to ignore them."

Conroy followed Murphy out of the kitchen and shouted, "Who told you to use force? Find a few reliable subordinates and tell the reporters that a fisherman has drowned by the docks and they’re retrieving the body now. Just watch, those reporters will follow the scent of blood. If a few remain clueless, invite them to the Sheriff’s office to make a statement, asking if they intend to pry into privacy or disturb the peace by staying around the royal residence at night. I guarantee that not many people would want their names in the Sheriff’s records!"

Murphy had to admit that Conroy’s plan was indeed feasible, and the government often used similar tactics to divert public attention.

However, compared to a fisherman’s drowning, the Crown Prince’s serious illness obviously held more news value, so Murphy doubted the reporters would let it go.

Moreover, intimidating reporters could only work on those from local small papers. For influential outlets like The Times and the Chronicle Morning Paper, a local Sheriff from Ramsgate trying to scare them into silence was simply wishful thinking.

"Sir John Conroy," Murphy spoke up, "these reporters are from London. If this escalates... it might not only damage the Duchess and the Princess’s reputations but also implicate Kensington Palace itself. Are you sure your approach won’t backfire?"

Conroy met Murphy’s gaze with a strong tone, "Precisely because they’re from London, we can’t let them return with tonight’s rumors. Otherwise, tomorrow’s papers will spread across Britain like a plague. No matter the truth, the public will only remember ’Kensington Palace was involved in a scandal.’ We must quell this at its source tonight, by any means necessary!"

At this moment, Murphy could only hope for the Duchess of Kent’s decision. He gently inquired, "Your Highness, what do you think?"

The Duchess bit her lip, clearly swayed by Conroy’s words, but before she could speak, steady footsteps were heard from upstairs.

Arthur descended the spiral staircase from the shadows. Murphy saw him as if seeing a lifeline: "Sir Arthur, how are things upstairs?"

Arthur glanced meaningfully at Conroy, then shifted his gaze to the Duchess of Kent.

He removed his hat and bowed slightly to the Duchess, then said, "Your Highness, after my meticulous inspection, there are no potential criminals on the second and third floors of Albion Villa, but since I didn’t inspect the first floor, I can’t pass a hasty judgment."

The Duchess was slightly stunned, clearly not expecting Arthur to give such an ambiguous answer at this moment.

Conroy immediately frowned, "Sir Arthur, what are you implying?"

Arthur slowly put his hat back on, his fingers lightly turning the silver eagle-headed cane: "I’m not implying anything, Sir John. I’m simply reporting my observations truthfully."

He paused here, then added with a faint smile, "Of course, if you have special confidence in the condition of the first floor, which I did not personally inspect, then by all means."

Though his words were calm, they landed like a sharp slap on Conroy’s face, leaving him momentarily speechless.

The Duchess of Kent’s expression subtly changed under the light, evidently pricked by Arthur’s remark about "special confidence," yet she refrained from questioning further at this moment.

Arthur noticed her subtle expression, so he gently reined in his edge and lowered his voice, "Your Highness, regarding the Princess’s condition... I must solemnly remind you, her illness is more serious than you imagine."

Upon hearing this, the Duchess involuntarily clenched her skirt, her gaze evasive as she replied, "But, John... no, everyone believes that she only caught a chill and will recover with a few days of rest..."

Arthur gently shook his head, "A chill wouldn’t make a young heart beat so sluggishly, nor drain her strength to the extent where lifting a teaspoon becomes a struggle within a few short days. Your Highness, I am not here to alarm you, but... if she doesn’t receive the most appropriate care as soon as possible, her condition might deteriorate before you are prepared."