Chapter 411 Britain, Don't Cry for Me (Part 1)

Love everyone, trust a few, and trust no one.

——Shakespeare's "As You Like It"

On a gloomy and humid afternoon in London, the sky suddenly tore open, and the pouring rain swept across the entire city like a waterfall. The streets and alleys instantly turned into a vast ocean, and the roads paved with cobblestones and bluestone bricks became extremely muddy under the baptism of rain. Every rut was deeply sunk in the sticky mud, as if it were the scarred veins of the earth.

And amid the rain, which was so dense that it was almost suffocating and making it difficult to see the scenery ahead, there was mixed the sound of messy and heavy riding boots hitting the ground.

They were wearing simple homemade oilcloth raincoats and bowler hats, with crystal drops of water dripping from the brim, and their epaulettes shimmering faintly but brilliantly in the rain.

On the road, groups of passing carriages trudged through the mud, their wheels making a heavy grunting sound, and their drivers waving their whips to drive the tired horses. The gentlemen and ladies sitting in the car couldn't help but open the windows and carefully looked at the group of 'blue devils', curiously guessing where they planned to go.

But in an instant, curiosity turned into hesitation. The gentlemen looked up and looked at the smoke rising in the sky. Under the wash of heavy rain, the air that smelled of gunpowder seemed to be lighter.

The lady gently held her husband's hand and asked unconfidently: "Dear, how about we go back first? Looking at the expressions on the faces of these police officers and their neat running postures, things are going... …It doesn’t seem to be as bad as we thought.”

The gentleman looked at his wife next to him, smoking a stale cigarette. He stared at the group of police officers running by. Suddenly, he saw a few mounted policemen riding tall horses passing through the rain curtain.

The horses' hooves stepped through the puddles, splashing turbid water. Their figures were looming in the rain, like a dynamic black and white oil painting. The doors and windows of shops along the way were closed, and pedestrians hurriedly took shelter from the rain. Only this well-disciplined team headed upstream towards the bustling City of London.

The leading cavalry officer seemed to have noticed the carriage that was slowly stopping. He turned the horse's head with a rein and drove the horse towards here with small steps.

The officer took off his hat, leaned down slightly, raised his hand and lightly tapped the edge of the window. Outside the car window, his black eyes flashing with a faint red light appeared.

"Sir, ma'am, do you need any help?"

The lady glanced at her husband and replied apologetically: "Officer, thank you for your help. We...we just feel a little flustered and scared."

Arthur laughed easily, straightened his back and replied: "Madam, I assure you that the situation in London will soon be stable. It is our responsibility to cause you to be scared, so we are now preparing to shoulder it. Get up. Go home, go home and take a nap. When you get up tomorrow, the rain will have stopped. Believe me, although this is my first time predicting the weather, this is my common sense after living in London for so many years. There are still some.”

After saying this, Arthur swung the reins again, only to hear a horse's neighing, and soon he rushed out like an arrow from the string, and the horse's hoof fell into the small puddles on the road, splashing a lot of mud. A few naughty ones even jumped into the car window and soiled the lady's beloved white dress.

But at this moment, the lady had no intention of blaming the police officer for his ungentlemanly behavior. Instead, she turned her head and asked her husband: "My dear, what do you think..."

The gentleman knocked his pipe out of the window and cleared out the ashes: "Mary, go back. I suddenly remembered that we still have some good tea left at home. Let's light a bonfire, cook some samovars, and cut some ham. By the way, you can tell me about Mrs. Hawkinson that you mentioned to me last time, and the little stories from your ladies' reading club. I'm actually quite interested in the hobbies of you ladies."

…

The City of London, an area known as the 'One Square Mile' among London citizens, is located in the heart of the north bank of the Thames River. It is decorated with ancient church spiers, heavy Gothic buildings and emerging commercial buildings. Intertwined with the solemnity of history and the atmosphere of modern industrial civilization.

As the name suggests, it is one square mile, which is not a particularly large area in the majestic London. However, anyone who steps into this area for the first time will be shocked by its wealth and gorgeous decoration.

Bank buildings in neoclassical style rise here one after another. They are built of hard stone and decorated with gorgeous sculptures and reliefs, demonstrating the strength and prestige of the financial giants.

The England regional headquarters of local banking giants such as Barings Bank, Rothschild Bank, Lloyds Bank, and Bank of Scotland are all located here, like castles, guarding the country's financial lifeline. In addition to them, other countries in South America and Europe have also opened multinational banks in the City of London in order to be able to issue national bonds and raise sufficient funds in London.

However, the most eye-catching throne among the banks still belongs to Britain's largest bank, the Bank of England, which was jointly established by 21 British banking giants.

As the Financial City is a gathering place for these high-net-worth individuals, its entertainment and catering industries are naturally developing very well. Elegantly decorated gentlemen's clubs and cafes where businessmen use to pass time and exchange information can be seen everywhere on both sides of the street.

However, at this moment today, the clubs and cafes that were crowded in the past were empty, even their owners and waiters were not there.

At this moment, everyone gathered in a building with pre-Victorian characteristics, the London Stock Exchange located in the heart of London, which carries the heavy responsibility of the circulation of imperial wealth and shows the prosperity and authority of Britain.

The stock exchange is full of exquisitely carved stone facades, and the details reveal the complexity and solemnity of the Renaissance. The tall arched windows transmit sufficient natural light to illuminate the internal trading hall.

Walking into the door of the stock exchange, a unique smell mixed with the smell of paper, ink and coins hits the nose.

In the center of the spacious trading hall, a huge dome skylight sprinkles golden light, making the space look grand and bright. The trading desks are arranged radially around the central area, and each trading desk is surrounded by carefully crafted iron railings to ensure the safety and order of trading activities.

However, the safety and order that the exchange used to boast about itself has become a self-deprecating joke today.

The hall was filled with a bustling crowd. Investors in top hats and long gowns were rubbing shoulders with each other. Those who stayed in the hall were reluctant to leave, while those who did not squeeze into the hall were desperate to squeeze in.

Everyone was pale, and everyone held a transaction document full of dense numbers in their hands. Their eyes flashed with a kind of doomsday-like anxiety and panic.

In the noisy sound waves, hurried footsteps, low conversations, and occasional exclamations came one after another, sounding like a tragic symphony.

Stockbrokers were busy at their respective trading seats, sweat slid down their cheeks and soaked their collars.

They shouted out stock codes and prices, trying to get rid of their stocks and bonds as soon as possible.

However, the panic in the market spread like wildfire, and every reduction in the quotation triggered a new round of crazy selling.

On the huge bulletin board inside the exchange, the chalk lines of the rapidly falling stock prices were shocking, as if foreshadowing the end of an era.

In the crowd, some people were pale because of the heavy losses, some took the opportunity to pick up cheap chips, and some screamed in despair to sell their last holdings.

The copper bell of the exchange rang heavily at a certain point, announcing that the trading session was about to end, but the panic in the air did not dissipate, but became more intense. Everyone was roaring for an extension of the trading time. In order to achieve this goal, they did not mind punching the staff of the exchange twice, and even did not mind pulling out a pistol to threaten.

Faced with such a scene, those capital tycoons who used to stir up trouble in the London financial market could not help but feel that their hearts were raised to their throats. They did not dare to open their mouths, for fear that their hearts would jump out of their stomachs as soon as they opened their mouths.

"It's over, it's all over!"

"You are robbing! You are robbing my hard-earned money, and you are not even willing to pay a single blow for this robbery!"

"I will petition Parliament, and the king should issue a Privy Council Order to arrest all those guys who suppress stock prices, just like the South Sea Company case back then!"

Such voices echoed in the stock exchange, and everyone's heart was filled with anger and fear.

But the bad thing is that they don't even know who to vent their anger on, because no one knows who has robbed their money.

Even the families who have great say in the financial city have suffered heavy losses in this short half-hour trading time.

This total collapse that swept the entire market has plunged the London Stock Exchange, the heart of the global economy, into unprecedented chaos and turmoil.

In a corner of the London Stock Exchange, Lionel held a thick stack of transaction documents in his hand, his body was trembling, and he was surrounded by stockbrokers of all sizes belonging to the Rothschild family.

"Mr. Rothschild, do you have any news? Can you explain the Greenwich issue? Can it be resolved there?"

"We can't just sit there and wait for death. We must either increase our positions or close them. We must do something now while we still have some capital in our hands."

Lionel sat on a bench in the stock exchange. The Jewish young master had a blank expression on his face and tried his best to stay calm, but the sweat on his forehead betrayed his nervousness at the moment, and his iconic smile was gone at this time.

Lionel said in a gentle tone: "Don't worry, my father has gone to Apsley House to find the Duke of Wellington. Baring must have also set off, and they will contact the Whig Party. I believe that in fifteen minutes at most, we can figure out what is going on."

"Fifteen minutes?!"

A stockbroker was furious when he heard this, and he threw the documents in his hand in Lionel's face: "Do you know what crazy things you are talking about? Now every minute, our assets will depreciate by 3%. At this rate, in fifteen minutes, even if the news comes out, we will be finished!"

Lionel was startled by his actions, but he was suddenly filled with anger. He stared at the stockbroker in front of him, never expecting that this guy who always nodded and bowed to him would behave so rudely today.

However, Lionel soon figured it out and understood why his Uncle James was so desperate that he almost committed suicide when the July Revolution broke out in Paris.

Many stockbrokers and investors are guys with no bottom line. If you can help them make money, they can praise you like God, but if you make them lose money, they will simply want to drink your blood. Eat your flesh.

Friendship, friendship, family affection, love, any emotion is of no use at this time.

Lionel said calmly: "Jerome, you and Rothschild have been working together for many years and know our investment habits. We don't like to gamble without getting any information. Instead of making mistakes, We would rather do nothing. If you feel that we are not compatible, you can terminate the cooperation contract with us at any time. For the sake of our friendship for so many years, I have made the decision for my father. If you terminate the contract now, I will only charge you liquidated damages. half."

"half?"

Seeing that his strategy of irritating Lionel was working, Jerome hurried to strike while the iron was hot: "How much do I pay every year to get information from you? And now you not only don't let me make money, but you also make me lose money. Are you still trying to make me pay half of the liquidated damages?"

Lionel bent down to pick up the documents that Jerome had thrown at his face, and raised his hand and handed it to him: "Sir, this is the rule of the Financial City, and it is also the credit you rely on as a stockbroker. Of course you can choose not to pay, but I have to remind you that if you don’t pay even half of the liquidated damages, then you will not be able to mess with the financial markets in Europe in the future, whether in London, Paris, Naples, Vienna or Frankfurt. Go down."

Jerome was forced by Lionel's momentum and couldn't help but take a step back. He stared at Lionel, then looked back at the falling stock and bond prices on the bulletin board, and finally Still gritting his teeth, he took the bills back from Lionel's hand: "Okay! I'll give it! Half of the price will be transferred to your account tomorrow."

After saying this, he turned and shouted at his men: "Let's go! We have broken with Rothschild!"

Jerome's roar echoed throughout the stock exchange. As soon as he took a step, he suddenly felt something was wrong and his whole body froze in place.

At this time, he discovered that the exchange, which had been bustling with people just now, was suddenly silent, and even the sound of a pin falling to the ground could be clearly heard.

All the investors and stockbrokers stood there looking at each other. They still held the trading notes in their hands, but no one waved them anymore.

A road has been cleared in the exchange hall. There are five posts on both sides of the road. Scotland Yard police officers in blue tuxedos and loaded with ammunition have taken over the place.

At the end of the road, a senior police officer took off his hat, leaned in front of the trading window and said to the traders: "Excuse me, I heard that stocks and government bonds are very cheap now?"

The trader lowered his eyes and glanced at the pistol on Arthur's waist. Although he was nervous, his highly self-disciplined professional ethics still forced him to show a standard smile: "Yes, Mr. Police Officer, most stocks have fallen by 100% now." At 30, it has even fallen by half. As for government bonds, the price of British government bonds has dropped to 85.4 points. Are you ready to buy some now?

"Um."

Arthur nodded, groped in his pocket, took out stacks of bank acceptance notes and placed them on the counter: "Part of this is my personal savings, and the other part is Scotland Yard's money. A total of Thirty-two thousand two hundred pounds, please buy it for me as public bonds."

"Uh..." Arthur's words confused the trader, and he asked: "Mr. Police Officer, if I understand correctly, are you saying that the money you gave is embezzled public funds?"

"Yeah." Arthur nodded calmly: "That's right."

After saying this, he turned to the police officers behind him and asked: "Do you have any objections to the payment of British public bonds to you for your salary in the next few months?"

"no comment!!!"

The response from the officers was deafening.

"Now." Arthur turned around and said, "Sir, you see, they have no objection, so just do it and buy it for me."

The trader was dumbfounded by Arthur. While counting the bills, he said: "Mr. Police Officer, I have seen a lot of people embezzling public funds over the years, but this is the first time that you have done such an honest thing." See you. Aren’t you afraid of being investigated later?”

Arthur shrugged: "It doesn't matter, as long as the public debt can make money, my subordinates will definitely not report me."

"Arthur."

Arthur looked back and saw that the person calling him was the Jewish young master Lionel Rothschild.

When Arthur saw him, he couldn't help but smile: "I knew you were here."

Lionel came to sit next to him, leaned down slightly and whispered: "You appear here, are you talking about Greenwich?"

Instead of lying to him, Arthur confessed, "Yeah, it's bad there."

"and you……"

Arthur smiled again in a flash: "That's all, just kidding."

Arthur whispered in Lionel's ear: "You know, if we watch the bond prices go down, things will get worse. Lionel, the only thing I can assure you at this moment is that things are still under our control. If you believe me, then help me, I need you to take action at this time."