The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 1737 - 74: I Want More Than Just Scotland Yard—The Foreign Office Too (Part 3)
Hutter turned to lead, taking Arthur to the east end.
The box was hidden in the inner corner of the second floor, with no number on the door, only an ebony plaque edged in silver, engraved with two simple letters: A.H.
The attendant waiting by the side saw Arthur coming and respectfully opened the door, ushering them inside.
The box was elegantly decorated, with a warm fire burning in the fireplace. A large window faced the garden of Kensington Palace, in front of which were several wide dark red sofas and two antique copper tea tables. On the tables lay today’s copies of The Times, the Manchester Guardian, and other newspapers. The wine cabinet housed a few unopened bottles of sherry and champagne.
As soon as he sat down, Arthur took out a letter from his pocket and placed it on the table, lightly tapping the cover with the back of his finger.
"This letter was written three days ago." Arthur said softly, his gaze on the letter rather than Hutter’s face: "Originally, I thought of talking after you settled in London and after James’s promotion was finalized. But your performance today made me change my mind."
Hutter furrowed his brow in confusion: "What is this?"
Arthur pushed the letter towards Hutter: "Open it and take a look."
Hutter hesitated to take it. The handwriting on the envelope was strong and vigorous, with a few strokes of forced casualness. Before the signature, it purposely added: Your most unorthodox admirer.
And at the signature part, it boldly read: Benjamin Disraeli.
Hutter widened his eyes sharply, seemingly understanding something: "Could it be..."
Arthur nodded: "Mr. Disraeli recently obtained an internal selection index for the Foreign Office, which I assume you’ve heard about what this index is for. If you haven’t, I’ll be direct; this is specifically for recommended people to submit resumes and go through a review process, bypassing the ordinary system. The quota is limited, and this selection was not announced beforehand."
Hutter did not immediately respond, his gaze fixed on the letter.
He never expected that such a golden opportunity would drop right onto his head.
Only now did Hutter slowly realize why Arthur insisted on meeting Blackwell today at the coffee shop.
It seemed Arthur had been hesitating whether to give this opportunity to him or to Blackwell.
It seems now, Richard Hutter was the person Sir Arthur Hastings found more satisfactory.
"I... I have indeed heard of it." Hutter’s voice was somewhat hoarse, and his mind was still a bit muddled: "The Foreign Office review channel has never been open to people like me."
"People like you?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, smiling, picking up a teacup, "What do you mean by people like you? I am such a person, Mr. Disraeli is such a person, the times have changed, Richard, you must gradually adapt. The old era is gone, the new era is knocking at the door. Maybe effort paying off was an empty phrase before, but in my case, this phrase has always been real."
Hutter let out a bitter laugh, unsure of how to describe his feelings: "I... Certainly, working with you has always been rewarding. But, I never expected to encounter such an event; I thought maybe you would arrange for me to go to Scotland Yard, like my brother."
"Scotland Yard? No, no, you are a constitutional soldier of the Third Bureau; going to Scotland Yard would be a waste of talent. You should have heard from your brother, the Intelligence Bureau’s Fifth Section only handles domestic affairs. Whereas the Foreign Office’s Intelligence Liaison Office is responsible for liaising with overseas matters."
Hutter restrained his excitement, carefully stowing away the letter on his lap, as if afraid it would suddenly fly away: "Sir, may I ask you something?"
"Please do."
"Why did you choose me? If I’m not mistaken, you surely have other candidates, right? Such an opportunity, if released, I don’t know how many people would fight for it."
Arthur opened a bottle of champagne, the sound of bubbles echoing in the room. As he poured Hutter a drink, he began to speak: "Richard, didn’t I just say? Don’t attribute all good things to me. It’s not that I chose you, but that you proved you deserve this position. I am not Christ, do not show mercy, nor do I plan to redeem anyone. I will not choose someone who climbs up simply through connections, nor will I choose someone who blames their failure on their background while unable to endure hardship. I only look at one thing: did you do what you were supposed to do."
"Sir... I, I truly am at a loss to express my gratitude."
Arthur handed the champagne glass to Hutter: "You need not thank me. Listen to me, don’t utter thanks at a time like this. Thanks is a heavy word that can make a relationship that could have been smooth become cumbersome. I never like debt of gratitude; I only like those who can sit in front of me and still look me in the eye without burden."
Hutter opened his mouth, but finally swallowed the "thank you" stuck in his throat, only nodding lightly, raising the champagne glass in his hand: "If I understand correctly... should I have the fortune to enter the Foreign Office, then please advise me. Do you think there are any matters a newcomer like me should pay attention to at work?"
Arthur gave him a look, his lips slowly curved into a meaningful smile. He raised his glass and clinked it lightly with Hutter’s: "You see, Richard, this is why we can get along."
