The Shadow of Great Britain

Mr. Dubris's home was very different from the judge's residence Arthur had seen before.

Whether in London or Paris, the residences of judges typically shone with an old-world luxury, so much so that the residences themselves could qualify as antiques.

Everywhere were crystal chandeliers carved into leaf shapes, Damascus fabrics, silk produced in southern China, Ottoman and Persian-style carpets, gilded furniture, and everything attended by servants dressed in old-style livery.

Although the tableware they used might not shine as the furniture did, and indeed most people's tableware appeared somewhat unsightly, to those in the know, this was also a sign of status. Only the long-established family silverware could exude such a dark luster.

At the center of the dining table was a large glass bowl used for holding fruit, surrounded by exquisite porcelain from Sussex. The dishes, meticulously prepared by the chef, might not suit the guests' palates, but the presentation was certainly delicate.

But in the Dubris home, no such arrangement was apparent. The walls and ceiling of the master bedroom were whitewashed with lime, a bed for sleeping, a crude wardrobe, a walnut desk, and a single armchair.

The bookshelf in the room seemed to have not been cleaned for a long time, covered in dust. However, it was stuffed with neatly arranged documents, including diaries, court documents, and food purchase receipts, among others.

The reception room outside the bedroom was even more meager; apart from a table and a few small wooden stools only seen in schools, there was nothing else.

Although a location like Foa Street did not offer outstanding houses, Dubris's room would not have looked so shabby if looked at a few years ago.

Back then, his wife was still alive, and the frugal Mrs. Dubris always kept the place in good order.

After his wife's death, Mr. Dubris chose not to remarry, so now he lived there alone with a servant who had been with him for many years.

Perhaps this was the greatest reason that, after a lifetime of conscientiousness, Mr. Dubris finally decided to muster the adventurous spirit and throw a vengeful punch at the world.

Arthur had to exert a lot of effort to convince this neurotic court prosecutor of his diplomat identity.

As for Louis, he did not reveal himself in front of Dubris. On the contrary, this young man who prided himself as the new leader of the Bonaparte Party was doing his best to conceal himself. He neither particularly liked nor disliked the Royalists, but he was very eager to understand what was in the minds of this group.

After recounting his experiences to Arthur and Louis, Dubris let out a long sigh and drank up the warm coffee in his cup.

These days, he had kept these words in his heart. Although for intelligence officers like Arthur, keeping secrets alone was merely basic professionalism, for an honest man who had never engaged in intelligence work, burying such dangerous secrets within was extremely difficult every single moment.

Dubris finished his coffee, remained silent for a while, and then spoke: "You say you are a British diplomat and have some connection with the Royalists, so can I assume you're here to bribe me to work for the British?"

Arthur did not speak but first took out a cigar box and offered it to Dubris, indicating that he could take one.

Dubris didn't smoke, but he stared at the cigar box for a long moment, eventually taking one.

Louis skillfully struck a match, first lighting his own cigar and taking a puff, then extending the lit cigar to Arthur and Dubris, letting them borrow the flame.

Arthur exhaled a long plume of smoke: "Mr. Dubris, why do you think a British diplomat must work for Britain?"

Dubris was choked by the cigar smoke, coughing continuously, with tears streaming: "Cough cough cough… Could it be… you are a spy left in Britain by another country?"

"A spy?" Arthur smoked with narrowed eyes: "Not for the moment, but if necessary, I could be."

"What do you mean by that?" Dubris could not quite grasp Arthur's words: "Neither serving your homeland nor the enemy nation? Are you simply idling away in the British Foreign Office?"

Arthur shook his head and said: "You are an upright judge, so you likely cannot understand someone like me. However, I am not complicated; in fact, I am so simple that one could see right through me. I can be the most loyal diplomat of the British Government, or a spy that the French Government has sent to the British Foreign Office. Ultimately, I neither serve my homeland nor the enemy nation; I serve myself."

Dubris was somewhat repelled by Arthur's speech: "What you said makes you sound like a bit of a bastard."

Arthur did not deny this; he merely responded lightly: "I agree with your view. However, I must add that I have always acted fairly. I once sacrificed myself heroically for the British Government, so I owe them nothing. On the contrary, they owe me a life. Moreover, I said that I owe the government nothing, but I didn't say I owe Britain nothing. After all, I have lived there for many years, and even the most heartless person would feel some attachment to their homeland."