??312: Chapter 201 Riddle (4K)
312: Chapter 201 Riddle (4K)
Disraeli led Arthur up to the second floor.
Although the shelves were not as densely packed as those on the first floor, the decor here was significantly more luxurious.
The bright glass chandeliers, about four or five of them, lit up the area.
The wooden exterior fras were slightly worn but the paintings hanging on the walls cleverly concealed their antiquity and greedily absorbed the scarce sunlight from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The Persian carpets, filled with intricate golden-red patterns that covered the floor, further accentuated the classical and upscale atmosphere.
Perhaps due to the high value of the rchandise here, the owner had specifically arranged for two shop assistants to guard the entrance to the second floor.
As soon as Arthur stepped onto the second floor, his eyes were drawn to the array of goods spread out before him.
An intricately decorated ivory pipe, Ceylon tea sold in gilded canisters, a fine chanical pocket watch with moving hands and gears in the display cabinet, but what caught Arthur’s attention the most was the simple black umbrella leaning against the corner of the wall, which claid to be the sa model used by Sir Isaac Newton.
Normally, Arthur would consider such claims to be re self-promotion by the rchants, but considering that Sir Newton’s forr ho was just next door, and this shop had been around for over a hundred years, and the shop owner had assured him with a thump on his chest that his great-great-great-grandfather had been an intimate friend of Sir Newton, Arthur could only provisionally believe his statent.
However, Arthur’s trust didn’t last long, as he soon discovered that there were too many items in the store associated with Newton after a brief look around the second floor.
These included, but were not limited to, a wig worn by Newton, a spinning top he had played with, manuscripts he had written, and of course, the legendary apple that supposedly hit Newton on the head.
Arthur crouched in front of the display window, leaning forward to stare at the apple labeled “not for sale” for quite so ti.
Suddenly, he saw the apple’s skin move, tearing open to reveal a hole, and a little green worm with a plump belly wriggled out of it.
Arthur, stroking his chin in thought for a while, suddenly nodded at the little worm, “To have survived until now, you’re more impressive than gravity itself.”
With that said, he couldn’t help but shout to the shopkeeper who was snoring at the counter on the second floor, “Sir, co and et the friend of your great-great-great-grandfather.”
Having spoken, he then leaned on his walking stick and walked away from the counter nad “Newton’s Choice.”
anwhile, Disraeli, holding a brownish-yellow cigar near his nose, sniffed it lightly.
Seeing Arthur approaching, he hurriedly waved him over, “Arthur, you must be bored of ordinary tobacco by now.
How about we get so Havana cigars today?”
“Cigars?” Arthur took the cigar box from Disraeli’s hands, sniffed it lightly, and nodded, “That’s fine, having so is better than none.”
“Oh, Arthur, listen to what you’re saying,”
Disraeli said disdainfully, “Smoking a cigar is a delicate affair, it’s a fashion.
Don’t think of it as just any ordinary tobacco.
If you want to enjoy a good cigar, you need to learn a bit.
Oh, right, I almost forgot.
Do you have a cigar cutter at ho?
If not, we might as well buy one today.”
“A cigar cutter?
What’s that for?”
“It’s used to cut the head of a cigar.
Do you have one at ho?”
Arthur simply shook his head in response, “No, but I have a French lodger, Alexander, at ho, so I think I don’t need to specifically buy sothing to cut cigar heads.”
Disraeli looked puzzled, “Why?
Is Alexander particularly good at biting cigars?
They’re quite bitter to bite into!”
Arthur replied, “No, it’s because the French are traditionally skilled at making machines for cutting heads.
I know there’s a big one in Paris, and anyone who has used it never complains about it.
I’ll ask Alexander to see if, in a fit of friendship, he can make
sothing similar.”
Upon hearing this, Disraeli laughed until tears ford in his eyes: “Using a guillotine to cut cigars might be a bit of an overkill.
But okay, since you say you don’t need it, let’s not buy one.
Shall we go check out so cologne next?”
Arthur pulled out his pocket watch to check the ti, “Looking at the ti, the perfur should be at work by now, let’s go to the backyard.”
Disraeli casually summoned a young shop assistant to take them to the perfury room in the backyard, all the while asking, “Why the sudden interest in cologne?
I rember you don’t usually wear any scent, and even if you did, it wouldn’t be to the extent of needing cologne to mask it.
Arthur, tell
the truth, are you interested in soone?”
Hearing Disraeli teasing him, Arthur responded nonchalantly, “Benjamin, I am interested in quite a few ladies.
I’m not like Eld, who loves widely, but generally speaking, I’m always open to beautiful ladies.
But you are different.
I just can’t understand why you always prefer ladies much older than yourself.”
At this, Disraeli reacted as if struck by lightning, his whole body shivering as he exclaid, “Damn, Arthur, how did you know?”
Of course, Arthur wouldn’t tell him that Benjamin Disraeli’s file had a reference number of 001 in the archives of the London Police Intelligence Bureau.
Instead, he simply pulled out the reasonable yet easily confabulated explanation, “I told you, Benjamin, I’m a detective.
As one of Scotland Yard’s most outstanding detectives, it’s quite normal for
to have a keen insight.
The way you look at older won is obviously different.”
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