The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1811 - 106: Sir Arthur Points Out the Direction of Development (3)

"You want to lure him in?" Fiona widened her eyes. "No way, how are you so sure he’ll come to my place? You’re so certain that other places don’t have strong ties? Maybe they’re brave enough to operate as usual."

"That’s why this depends on Ledley." Arthur slowly exhaled a smoke ring. "You open for business and entertain those two. I’ll notify Scotland Yard for a raid on Nightingale Mansion."

Upon hearing this, Fiona couldn’t help but feel annoyed. "Does it have to be at my place? If my place gets raided by the police, and word gets out, who would dare to come to me in the future?"

Arthur didn’t immediately respond to Fiona’s questioning. He just silently looked at her, and after a long while, he gently extinguished the cigar in the ashtray and spoke in a low voice, "Fiona, if there was another place I felt assured of, I wouldn’t come to you. In London, there aren’t many people I can trust, but you’re high on the list."

Fiona was taken aback for a moment, seemingly not expecting him to say something like that out of the blue.

She avoided Arthur’s gaze, as if afraid to let him notice any flaw, but the corner of her mouth couldn’t help but twitch slightly.

She lowered her head, fiddled with her skirt, and squeezed out a sentence, "Quit with the flattery... You make it sound like I’m some kind of saint."

Arthur didn’t quite understand how her mind suddenly jumped to saintly comparisons, but since he needed her help, he wasn’t daring enough to be too cheeky with his words.

"Does that mean you agree?"

As soon as Fiona heard this, she immediately raised her eyebrows again, "Aren’t you advancing a bit too fast? Mr. Hastings, when did I ever say I agreed?"

"Hmph!" Fiona snorted, though her tone softened considerably, "I’m willing to cooperate, but I demand a higher price. The girls’ consolation fees, compensation for renovations, and I want a truckload of scented candles from Paris. I’ve been wanting those, but they seem hard to order."

Arthur frowned, "Consolation fees and compensation are negotiable, but the Paris candles..."

"Hmm?!"

"Alright, fine, we’ll go with your terms. I’ll do my best, the beautiful Miss Fiona. I’ll immediately go seek Alexander’s help. That fat man seems to have some good connections in Paris."

"Now that’s more like it." Fiona snorted, sitting up straight, but the hint of pride in her voice was unmistakable.

"But I have a few more things to add." She held up one finger, batting her eyelashes, and lowered her voice deliberately, "First, I want your verbal promise that after this operation, there won’t be any news articles, especially from The Times. I don’t want to see Nightingale Mansion mentioned in any news headlines. If my place does get featured, even a little hint, then you better come and work to attract customers until Nightingale Mansion is back to its usual customer flow."

"That’s not too much to ask," Arthur replied. "I didn’t plan on putting you in the headlines anyway."

Fiona nodded in satisfaction, then raised a second finger, "Second, after the operation, Scotland Yard should arrange a security check. Under the guise of health and safety, let me reopen grandly with official proof and stamps. It’d be best if one of your Intelligence Bureau rookies could come to an interview, publicly stating that Nightingale Mansion is ’hygienically compliant, orderly, and hospitable.’ You get what I mean, right?"

Hearing this, Arthur squinted his eyes, "The first part is negotiable, but the latter..."

Fiona didn’t care if he was listening, raising a third finger, "Third, those two poor fellows, after being caught by the police, Scotland Yard must foot the bill for their consumption, full price for all services, no discounts!"

"That’s extortion!" Arthur slammed his hand on the table, "Unless you can guarantee you have no intention of hiking prices temporarily."

"That’s slander!" Fiona fiercely glared at him, "We’re equally dishonest. Do you think you’re so righteous?"