Chapter 2350 - 296: Not the Home Office Executive Deputy Secretary, but the World’s Executive Deputy Secretary

It’s you who needs his loyalty, not him who needs your forgiveness. Perhaps the era might misjudge heroes, but it never forgives cowards.

—— Eld Carter, "In Defense of Sir Arthur Hastings"

Perhaps it was because of the grand vision promised to Arthur that excited him, or maybe it was just from drinking too much tea, but suddenly Disraeli stood up his cue stick, as if he had just remembered some extremely important problem that only he could solve.

"Excuse me, I need to step away for two minutes." Disraeli, who was gradually unable to control the corners of his mouth, was in such a hurry that he seemed about to attend a meeting at the Privy Council: "I need to use the restroom."

After speaking, he turned around and pushed the door open to leave.

The billiards room grew quiet with only the sizzling sound of the gas lamp and the faint tobacco scent lingering in the breath.

Arthur leaned forward with the cue stick, gave a gentle push, as the white ball slid out in a beautiful arc and struck the red ball with a crisp sound.

Eld held his cue stick and stared at the door, waiting until he was sure there was no longer any sound outside, then finally spoke: "Arthur, did you release Allen?"

Arthur, who was bowing his head to brush away cigarette ash, paused slightly upon hearing this, and the ash on his fingertips fell onto the indigo felt, leaving a small yet noticeable mark.

He naturally walked over to the other side of the billiards table, selecting a slightly heavier cue stick from the rack, weighing it lightly in his hand: "Why would you think that?"

Eld didn’t rush to answer, instead, he pressed the cigar butt in the brass ashtray at the corner of the billiard table: "Just a feeling. We’ve known each other for twelve years; I know what kind of person you are."

Just as Eld finished speaking, Arthur was already leaning forward again,

"Oh?" He supported the cue stick between the web of his left thumb and finger, gently exerting force. The white ball slid across the tablecloth and struck another red ball: "What kind of person am I?"

Eld chuckled softly, placing the cue stick across his arm, and walked to the other side of the table, meeting Arthur’s gaze across the surface.

"What kind of person are you? You’re Mr. Jeremy Bentham’s student, a graduate of the University of London, an outright radical."

Arthur didn’t look up, just kept his eyes on the red ball that rolled into the pocket: "Is that so? It seems your view differs from most people."

"It can’t be helped." Eld whistled: "After all, the truth is always in the hands of a few."

Arthur put down the cue stick, sitting at the edge of the billiards table: "I once fired a shot at the base of the Tower of London."

"So what? Napoleon once fired cannons on the streets of Paris too. Did it affect what those Frenchmen thought of him?" Eld raised an eyebrow: "You’ve been to Paris, so you surely know. In that place, every day, thousands pray for their Emperor’s return."

Arthur shrugged, as if expressing a sort of helplessness: "Seems like your mindset is indeed different from most Englishmen."

"Thank God." Eld laughed heartily: "That’s what an excellent education at the University of London got me."

"Don’t celebrate too soon." Arthur gave a light hum: "Allen received the same education at the University of London, but he doesn’t think like that."

"That’s because Allen has never left Great Britain Island in his life." Eld paced with his hands behind his back: "Had I not witnessed Rosas’s atrocities against the Indians in Argentina, I might have also thought that Argentina was the heavenly kingdom that the Englishmen dream of. But I saw how Rosas’s Federal Party hanged opponents, and witnessed those who had their limbs broken alive thrown into the Pampas Grassland to feed vultures. That’s a world that can’t be described by words, nor can reality be restored by news reports."

At this point, Eld paused, looking at Arthur: "It was only after I finished my world tour and returned to Britain that I truly understood why those who experienced the French Revolution almost all turned from radical revolutionaries to moderate reformist representatives."

Hearing this, Arthur suddenly fixed Eld with a gaze akin to looking at a monster.

"What kind of look is that?!" Eld got annoyed being stared at, rolling his eyes: "Can’t I occasionally say something serious? I’m usually carefree, with an attitude towards life akin to Byron’s, but that doesn’t mean I’m genuinely foolish."

Arthur reluctantly accepted this explanation: "I know. After all, a fool wouldn’t be able to do a good job at the Navy Department."

Eld tapped the table with his fingers: "So tell me, where did you hide Allen?"

"The United States." Arthur blurted out, skipping even the slightest hesitation.

"The United States?" Eld was taken aback, as if he heard wrong, but immediately furrowed his brows and repeated: "The United States..."

He paced back and forth: "The United States isn’t impossible... But why not send him to France? Isn’t that much closer?"

"Send him to France? You intended to have him follow that fat Alexander? What good would come from that?" Arthur crossed his arms: "Besides, considering Allen’s current way of doing things and political views, if you send him to France, will he behave? He’s now a wanted political criminal in Britain, the French would handle him with no psychological burden."

Eld was momentarily stunned by Arthur’s words, then furrowed his eyebrows: "But surely you couldn’t have kicked him to the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, right? Even though Allen following that fat Alexander might not end well, throwing him in the United States... isn’t that a place filled with Alexanders?"