The Shadow of Great Britain

He felt a shiver run down his spine, suddenly sitting upright: "Duke, Sir, my article, my article isn’t... isn’t made up! I really did look up information! It was... it was... it was written by a colleague! Yes, it was written by a colleague, I just reprinted it..."

Arthur hesitated for a moment: "Colleague?"

But soon, his mind came around.

Just as he thought, considering Lewis as a One Penny Journalist, how could he possibly manage the details of the Buckingham Palace concert.

The real mastermind must be someone else.

Lewis had no idea that Arthur had started speculating about who the skilled mastermind behind him could be, he just felt like the more he explained, the worse it got. On top of that, the mirror hanging at an angle reflected his panic-stricken expression, making him look as if he was confessing a crime.

"Sir, please don’t misunderstand! This was not... not fabricated, nor intentional fraud! And absolutely not an attempt to draw attention with this matter!"

Arthur picked up the quill and dipped it in ink: "Drawing attention is no problem, after all, it’s your job. However, if you’re willing to tell me who your colleague is, I’d be very grateful."

"Sir... Are you... are you going to... record this?" Lewis widened his eyes, his throat feeling a bit dry: "Is... is this to... to be submitted to the Home Office?"

"Home Office?" Arthur shook his head: "The Home Office hasn’t requested the names of journalists from me."

Lewis let out half a sigh of relief, but only half.

Because Arthur immediately added: "They don’t have jurisdiction over this matter. Only for now, this case is entirely under my personal authority. Whether it will be handed over to another department for investigation later depends on Her Majesty the Queen and the Palace Minister’s Office."

Her Majesty the Queen?

Her Majesty the Queen!

Like a bolt from the blue!

Lewis seemed as if his backbone had been removed, his back pressed into the chair, even his knees were shaking: "Her, Her, Her... Her Majesty the Queen?!"

His voice raised a full octave: "Sir, I just... I just wrote a report... just an ordinary, few pennies priced tabloid article... this small matter... it’s, it’s been escalated to... the Queen... Her Majesty the Queen?!"

Arthur glanced at him: "What did you think?"

"I... I thought..." Lewis shivered: "I thought it would be... you scolding me... at most, getting kicked out of Fleet Street level..."

He put the quill back into the Ink Bottle: "Mr. Lewis, do you really think that the appearance of the backstage details of the Buckingham Palace concert in a common tabloid could be settled by just being kicked out of Fleet Street?"

"Sir Arthur, I, I, I... huh?" Lewis got stuck: "Wait, which report are you talking about?"

"Of course, the one about the Buckingham Palace concert." Arthur sipped his tea, finally sensing something wasn’t right: "Otherwise? Which report did you think I meant?"

"I... I thought it was..." Lewis racked his brains, fabricating wildly: "I thought it was... was yesterday’s fire at the old pigeon coop in Strand Street? Or... the article I wrote the day before on the opposition party indulgently treating voters to feasts during elections?"

Arthur rolled his eyes: "You think I’d talk to you because of a few drink bills? I’m asking about the report on the Buckingham Palace concert."

Lewis opened his mouth, resembling a fish out of water: "Sir... that article... actually... actually, I’m not capable of knowing so many inside details."

"I know, that’s why I’m asking you who your colleague is."

Lewis’s face turned pale, he suddenly lowered his head, seemingly hesitating whether to continue lying.

But in the end, he gritted his teeth and confessed quietly: "No colleague."

"No colleague?" Arthur’s hand holding the pen paused lightly: "So, you’re saying that the article was written by yourself?"

Lewis bit his lip, summoning all his courage and poured out the words: "Sir, I... I was actually waiting outside Buckingham Palace early that day. The concert... didn’t end until evening, did it? But I went early in the morning, I was loitering at the palace gate from nine in the morning till almost eleven at night."

Arthur looked at him for a long time, as if searching for flaws in this skinny little journalist’s story, but eventually, he gave up: "Continue."

"After the concert ended..." Lewis spoke more urgently, as if fearing Arthur wouldn’t believe him: "Some people... they didn’t attend the ball afterwards. Some were old gentlemen who said they had leg pain and couldn’t attend the ball. Some were elegant ladies claiming to feel unwell. There were attendants of foreign envoys saying they still had documents to transcribe early tomorrow morning... in short, they’re minor figures. Though these people didn’t attend the ball, as they exited the palace gates, they were still immersed in the concert atmosphere, speaking loudly as if hoping someone nearby would overhear, or rather, hoping others would hear."

Arthur’s eyes moved imperceptibly.

Lewis wasn’t lying here because Arthur himself noticed that the ball attendees did not seem to be as numerous as the concert guests.

Lewis continued hastily: "I was just standing under the streetlamp listening to them speak! As for the program list, Her Majesty the Queen’s smile, and Duke of Wellington’s high spirits... these were things I pieced together from their chatter!"