Chapter 2 Chapter two

"The matter is decided like this!" Anthony drank the wine in the glass, and then put the glass on the table. "What ship are you going to take?" "Grannaborg." "Perhaps the booking is in your name? Well, I'll be traveling as James McGrath. We won't have passport problems, will we?" "There's not much difference anyway. I'm not like you at all. But there's one point where I might be identical in appearance—six feet tall, brown hair, blue eyes, nose, ordinary chin; ordinary—" "Don't talk about so many 'ordinary' gimmicks. I want to tell you that the Jiase Tour Group selected me among several applicants because of my good looks and friendly attitude."

Jimmy grinned. "I saw your attitude this morning." "Go to hell!" Anthony got up and walked up and down the room.His brows were slightly wrinkled, and it took a few minutes before he spoke. "Jimmy," he said at last, "Stiptitch died in Paris. What was the purpose of sending a parcel from Paris to England via Africa?" Jimmy shook his head helplessly. "I don't know.—"Why not wrap a little bag nicely and send it by post? " "It sounds more fucking reasonable that way, and I agree with you." "Of course," Anthony continued. "I know that kings, queens, and government officials cannot do one thing in a simple and direct way due to the restrictions of etiquette. Therefore, there are characters such as the king's messenger. In the Middle Ages, you give a person A signet ring, used as a kind of Arabian Nights spell to open doors. Ah, the ring of the king! Come, my lord, and the other usually steals the ring. .I don’t understand. Why didn’t any smart guy come up with an expedient way to imitate that ring? Do dozens of imitations, each selling for a hundred ancient coins. Medieval people don’t seem to have any ideas.”

Jimmy yawned. "I don't seem to be interested in what I say about the Middle Ages. Let's get back to the Earl of Stiptitch. Sending a thing from France to England via Africa is very difficult even for a diplomatic man." Stupid. If he only wants you to get a thousand pounds, he should put it in his will. Thank God! Neither you nor I are too proud to accept bequests! Stiptitch must be very stupid. " "You think so, don't you?" Anthony frowned and continued to pace up and down. "Did you not see that thing at all?" he asked abruptly. .What are you looking at? "

"A manuscript." "Why, no. What do you think I want to see for that?" Anthony smiled. "I'm just wondering, that's all. You know, there's a lot of trouble caused by memoirs and stuff. People who keep their wives and their lives secretive seem to absolutely love to cause chaos at the end of their lives. It will give them A kind of schadenfreude satisfaction. Jimmy, what kind of man is Stiptitch? You've seen him, talked to him, and, besides, you have a good sense of human nature.Can you imagine him being a vengeful old guy? " Jimmy shook his head.

"It's hard to tell. You know? He was pretty drunk the first night. By the next day, he's a dignified old man, well-mannered, and flatters me so much I don't know what to do." "Did he say anything funny when he was drunk?" Jimmy frowned as he recalled the situation. "He said he knew where it was." He is not sure to automatically provide information. "Ah!" said Anthony. "We all know that. They keep it in a showroom in the Tower of London, don't they? There's a thick glass door, and iron bars for protection, and a lot of people in smart uniforms standing there to guard against thieves."

"That's right." Jimmy agreed with him. "Did Stiptitch talk about anything else like that? Did he talk about, for example, which town he knew the Wallace Collection was in?" Jimmy shook his head. "Yeah!" Anthony said. He lit a cigarette and started pacing back and forth again. "I suppose, you savage, you never read a newspaper?" he asked suddenly after a while. "Not often." McGrath said simply. "What's in the paper usually doesn't interest me." "Thank God, I'm more civilized than you. There have been news about Hezoslav several times in the newspapers recently. It hints that a restoration is brewing there."

"Nicolas IV had no heirs," said Jimmy. "However, I would never guess that the O'Paulwitch dynasty is extinct. There may be many young descendants wandering here and there now. There must be quite a few second, third, and fourth cousins. " "So, isn't it hard to find someone who can succeed to the throne?" "It's not difficult at all," Jimmy replied. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were bored with the republic. People who are as energetic and energetic as that are used to assassinating kings. Then, tell them to shoot the president, and they find it dull and unexciting. Now Speaking of the king, I think of what old Stiptitch said that night. He said he knew the rascals who were chasing him, and they were King Victor's men."

"What?" Anthony asked suddenly, turning around. McGrath was grinning slightly.Now, his grin was wider. "Kua# is excited, isn't it? Gentleman Zhou?" He draws his voice back. "Don't be a fool, Jimmy. You say something pretty important." He went to the opposite window and stood there looking out. "Who is King Victor anyway?" Jimmy asked. "Another Balkan king?" "No," Anthony said slowly. "He's not that kind of king." "So, who is he?" There was a moment's silence, and then Anthony said: "He's a liar, Jimmy. One of the world's most notorious jewel thieves, an unbelievably daring fellow; he's afraid of nothing. King Victor was his nickname in Paris. Paris is his Gangster stronghold. The police caught him and put him in for seven years on a lesser charge. They had no proof that he had committed a bigger crime. He was going to be out soon—or maybe he was. "

"Do you think Earl Stiptitch has something to do with his imprisonment? Those gangsters chased him for this, and wanted revenge?" "I don't know," Anthony said. "On the surface, it seems unlikely. As far as I know, King Viktor did not steal the jewels of the Hezoslav royal family. However, this incident seems to be fascinating from the beginning to the end, isn't it? Stepti Strange's death, the memoir, the rumors in the newspapers—it was all vague but interesting, and there was another rumor that they had discovered oil deposits in Herzoslav. James, I deeply feel that people have slowly become interested in that small, unimportant country. "

"what kind of person?" "Hebrews. Yellow-faced financiers in urban offices." "What do you mean by all this?" "Trying to make an easy thing difficult, nothing else." "You're not going to pretend you have any difficulty getting a simple manuscript to a publishing company?" "No." Anthony said regretfully. "I suppose that would be easy. But, James, shall I tell you where I am going to spend my two hundred and fifty pounds?" "To South America?" "No, man. I'm going to Herzoslav. I'm going to partner with those Republicans. I might be President someday."

"Since you are so ambitious, why don't you become a major royalist and become king?" "Woo, James. The king is for life. The term of the president is only about four years. It's quite interesting to run a country like Herzoslav for four years." "I don't think the King's office will last more than four years," said Jimmy Young. "I might embezzle your thousand pounds. That's a great temptation for me. Do you know? You'll be weighed down with gold when you come back. You won't need the thousand pounds. I'll invest in Hesoslav's oil mine shares for you. do you know?James.The more I think about it, the more I like your idea.I would never have imagined going to such a place if you hadn't mentioned Hesoslav to me.I was going to stop in London for a day, get the stolen money, and then leave on the Balkan Express. " "You won't be able to get away so soon. I haven't mentioned this before, but I have another small task for you." Anthony sank into a chair and stared at him sternly. "I've always felt that you were hiding something from me. So that's your trick." "I don't mean it, it's just that there is one thing that has to be done, to help a lady." "James, I can tell you categorically that I absolutely don't want to get involved in your affair." "It's not an affair. I haven't seen this woman. I'll tell you the whole story." "If I have to listen to one more long-winded talk of yours, I'll have another drink," his master complied graciously, and then began to report the whole story. "That happened when I was in Uganda. There was a southern European. I saved his life—" "James, if I were you, I'd write a book called 'The People I've Saved.' That's the second I've heard tonight." "Ah, but this time I didn't really do anything. I just called the Southern European out of the river. Like most Southern Europeans, he couldn't swim." "Wait a minute, does this have anything to do with the other?" "Nothing at all. Strange, though, now that I think about it. The man was a resident of Hesoslav. We'll always call him Dachi Padro, though." Anthony nodded indifferently. "A Southern European can be called anything," he said. "James, go on with your good deeds." "The man was kind of grateful for that. He was always there for me like a dog. About six months later he had a fever and died. I was with him. Just before he died, he Beckoning me to come over, whispered something inexplicable in my ear about a secret—I think he was talking about a gold mine. He thrust a small oilcloth bag into my hand. It was always close to his body. However, I didn't pay much attention to it at the time. I didn't open the small bag until a week later. I must admit that I was curious. Otherwise, I wouldn't have thought Ducky Padro would be so clever that he would recognize a gold mine at the sight of it. But one's luck cannot be explained—" "Besides, when you just think of the word gold, your heart beats like crazy. You are always like this. " "I've never felt so nauseous in my life. Well, a gold mine! It might have been a gold mine to him. That rich animal! Do you know what that is? A bunch of women's letters—yes, a bunch." A letter from a woman, and an English woman at that. That vile thing is blackmailing her—he would be so shameless as to hand me that dirty bag." "I like to see you so indignant, James, but, I tell you, a Southern European is a Southern European. He means well. You saved his life. He bequeathed you a The information on the picture may raise a sum of money. His knowledge is limited, and he will not have your noble British ideals." "So, what do I do with these things? Burn them? That's what I thought at first. Later, I felt that I had to take care of that poor woman. She didn't know that the letters had been destroyed, and she was always trembling for fear of that southern European. Show up one day." "I had no idea you had such a good imagination, James," said Anthony, lighting a cigarette. "I admit the situation is much more difficult than it first appears. How about posting those letters to her?" "She, like all women, did not leave a date or address on most of her letters. On one letter there was a kind of address—only one name: 'Chimney House.'" Anthony was thinking while blowing out the firewood in his hand.Later, when the match was about to burn to his finger, he flicked it suddenly and threw the match head off. "The Chimney House?" he said. "It's kind of weird." "What? Do you know that place?" "It is one of the most stately residences in England, my dear James, a place where kings and queens spend their weekends, and where diplomats meet and discuss diplomatic matters." "That's one of the reasons why I let you go to England instead of going to the minister myself. Because, please know everything about this kind of thing." Jimmy said simply. "A stupid village like me born in a backward part of Canada can only go wrong. But a man like you who went to Eton and Harrow." "Only one of them." Anthony humbly say. "Someone like you gets the job done. Why don't I send these letters to her, you say? That seems dangerous to me. She seems to have a jealous husband, as far as I think. If he accidentally opens those letters What about the letters? Wouldn't the poor woman be embarrassing? Or, she might be dead—it seems that some time has passed since those letters were written. I think the only way is to find someone to bring to England and personally Pass it into her hand." Anthony threw away the cigarette, walked over to his friend, and patted him on the shoulder affectionately. "You're a real chivalrous man, Jimmy," he said. "The backcountry of Canada should be proud of you. I can't do this kind of thing as beautifully as you can." "So, are you ready for this task?" "of course." McGrath stood up, went across and opened a drawer, took out a bunch of letters, and threw them on the table. "Here are the letters. You'd better read them." "Is it necessary? Generally speaking, I'd better not read it." "However, judging from the situation of this ancient chimney house you mentioned, she may only be there for a while. Let us go through these letters to see if there is any clue to know where she really lives." "I think you're right." "Poor kid," he said. "She was terrified!" Jimmy nodded. "Do you think you can find her?" he asked worriedly. "I will not leave London until I find her. You are interested in this unknown woman, James?" Jimmy fingered the signature on the fold thoughtfully. "It's a beautiful name," he explained. "Virginia Rifford."

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