Chapter 2191 - 244: An Old Friend of the Canadian People: Sir Arthur Hastings (2)

Since all the atmosphere had been built up to this point, it seemed only natural that all the blame would eventually fall on him.

But if he was to be scolded, then so be it—this time it would at most amount to an extra theatrical performance, being publicly executed by Vickery in the Lower House.

At least, Arthur felt that his performance on the day of the hearing was at least better than Russell’s.

"If a single draft of opinions, a few documents, and some procedural clauses are enough to turn Britain into a police state, then I dare say: Britain has never been strong. Britain’s strength comes from parliamentary oversight of the system, from the press’s supervision of power, and from MPs like Your Excellency, who excel in both medicine and inquiry, constantly posing challenges. If there truly were people who aspired to establish a despotic state maintained by secret police, their first step would be to abolish open inquiries, not submit a draft for Your Excellency’s scrutiny."

Arthur recited his response from a few days ago at the hearing with a slight sense of pride.

For after he delivered this speech, the Lower House had even erupted in a smattering of applause.

The only downside was that the gentlemen applauding him seemed to be the old diehards of the High Tories.

It seemed like it was the first time in Arthur’s life that he received their recognition.

Arthur leaned back on his office chair, his fingertips tapping unconsciously on the desk: "Unfortunately, the applause came at the wrong time. Vickery must hate me now, and reconciling with them is a big problem..."

Arthur was pondering how to ease his relationship with the Radical Party, lest in their fervor, they rush to support the Earl of Dalmo in forming a new party.

Suddenly, there was a bang, and someone kicked open the door to his office.

The wooden door slammed against the wall, causing the London map on the wall to shake.

Arthur stood up, wanting to see which insensitive person planned to patrol the East District, but before he could see clearly, a familiar voice had already reached his ears.

"Arthur! Arthur!"

It was Eld.

Eld’s face was pale, his expression both shocked and disordered, his collar was slack, and even the buttons on his coat were done up incorrectly.

"You..." Arthur stared at him, momentarily stunned before snapping angrily: "Eld, what time do you think it is! You still have time to run to Leicester Square?!"

"Arthur, what do you take me for!" Eld glared at him, panting and supporting his knees: "I just sprinted back from the docks!"

"What were you doing at the docks?" Arthur frowned: "Is the labor shortage at the docks so bad that it’s spread to the Navy Department? And now even second-class clerks like you are needed?"

Eld dragged out a chair and sat down: "I went to meet the ship! The Hydrographic Office isn’t just about drawing maps; we also collect the latest maritime intelligence from the colonies."

"Intelligence?" Arthur sensed something was amiss, and his tone grew cold: "What kind of intelligence has you scared like this?"

"Didn’t you previously instruct me to pay more attention to intelligence from North America?" Eld supported the edge of the table, trying hard not to show his trembling hand: "This morning a mail ship from Canada docked, or more accurately, it set out from Quebec."

Arthur’s face changed slightly: "Quebec?"

"Yes." Eld nodded, and the hand holding his teacup was shaking, whether from fear or cold: "But it doesn’t matter if it came from Quebec anymore. What’s important is that the mailbag that ship brought back was stamped ’No opening without the authorization of the Home Secretary, the Naval Minister, or the Minister of War and Colonization.’

Without the Naval Minister’s authorization, not to be opened...

As an old bureaucrat in White Hall, Arthur naturally knew that any mailbag with such a stamp wouldn’t contain just the regular complaint letters from the colony’s incompetent officials, but rather an Admiralty Secret Packet—the highest grade of confidential document from the Navy Department.

Whenever this type of document appeared, it rarely contained good news, and in the best-case scenario, it might just be news of a sunken battleship or something.

Arthur frowned, pondered for a moment, and then asked, "Would the Navy Department hand over such a confidential bag to... the Hydrographic Office?"

Eld smiled bitterly: "Don’t overestimate us. That bag was originally to be sent directly to the Naval Minister’s desk. It’s just that I mentioned the arrival of a Canadian mail ship, so I arranged for myself a duty to inspect port affairs. When I boarded the ship, I happened to meet a customs official responsible for registering the vessels. He said the bag was heavy and needed to be handed over to someone from the Navy Department immediately... but it turned out I was the highest-ranking person on the spot, and also the director of the Navy Department’s Hydrographic Office..."

"So you took the bag on the spot?"

"I didn’t snatch it! I simply signed for it on behalf of the department as a second-class clerk of the Navy Department." Eld hastily cleared himself of responsibility: "I made a mad dash back with the bag, practically considering myself as the second coming of Francis Drake!"

Only then did Arthur realize that the situation was indeed abnormal, and he lowered his voice: "Eld, that bag... did you look inside?"

"I wouldn’t dare!"

After saying this, Eld seemed unable to hold on any longer, and collapsed back into his chair.

He produced the bulging sealed bag from his inside pocket like a hot potato and slammed it onto Arthur’s desk.

"Arthur, I’ve brought the thing back... I’ve done everything I could for a friend."