Chapter 613: Cunning Cultural Counselor

Mayor Bakalkin was busy dealing with a pile of trivial documents in his study. The fire was burning brightly, dispelling the winter chill of Druisk.

The dull air in the study was filled with the smell of old paper and a faint scent of ink.

His pen was just scratching a report when he was suddenly interrupted by a hurried knock on the door.

"What's the matter?" The mayor looked up, his tone mixed with a hint of impatience. He hated being interrupted the most, especially when he spent a lot of energy covering up local financial loopholes and resource misappropriation.

In the past few days, he took Colonel Hastingov to visit the streets and alleys of Druisk, including the city hall, the city elementary school, the church and the court, and even the garrison barracks.

Although there were many small episodes along the way, such as someone secretly following them outside the city hall for a while, as if waiting for an opportunity to complain. During the inspection of the municipal primary school, the teacher accidentally revealed some inappropriate words when explaining the course, which made the colonel frown slightly, as if he had doubts about the overly idealistic teaching method.

What bothered Mayor Bakalkin the most was that when they just came out of the church that day, Hastingov calmly questioned a farmer who complained to the city hall. However, the farmer seemed extremely nervous, at a loss, and even some of his words were incoherent, so he didn't say anything until the end.

Fortunately, Colonel Hastingov fulfilled his promise and did not make things too difficult for the local officials of Druisk on these trivial matters.

But in return, this lazy guy also asked the local officials of various departments to write their own inspection reports so that he could give them to him and take them back to St. Petersburg for the task.

Outside, the servant pushed the door open cautiously, his face full of anxiety: "Master! It's not good! The military police... a military police captain brought people and said they want to see you."

"Military police captain?"

Bakalkin's pen stopped in mid-air, and the ink dripped on the paper and spread a small black spot.

Military police, this word is even more biting to him than the icy wind in winter. He subconsciously touched his forehead, as if to confirm whether cold sweat had seeped out.

"Are you talking about a new military police? Not Colonel Hastingov?" The mayor's voice was a little dry.

"Yes, sir. They have arrived at the door of the mansion, and they look... very formal." The servant's tone revealed uneasiness, his eyes were a little erratic, and he seemed to dare not look directly at the mayor.

"Are they Colonel Hastingov's men?"

"I didn't ask, but even if I did, they wouldn't tell me." The servant swallowed his saliva: "You know, they are military police masters, and they are all cold as knives."

Bakalkin quickly stood up and pulled his slightly loose collar with his hand, trying to calm his breathing.

He knew that some of his "little actions" were not completely covered up, especially about taxes and local grain allocation.

If the military police had any evidence...

He didn't dare to think about it anymore.

"Let him in." Bakalkin finally said, trying to pretend to be calm in his tone, but the slightly trembling ending tone exposed his heart.

The servant nodded and left, and Bakalkin paced in the study. His mind quickly calculated the possible reasons-was his recent secret transaction with a landlord exposed? Or was there a loophole in the account of last month's grain quota?

Whatever the reason, he must prepare a set of excuses in the shortest time.

But in a flash, Bakalkin thought of Colonel Hastingov who lived in the guest room next door.

What is there to be afraid of?

He is just a captain of the gendarmerie!

As long as Colonel Hastingov stands on his side, can a captain still turn the world upside down!

Bakalkin just gave himself a reassurance, but in a flash he began to back down again.

However...

No one can be sure about the gendarmerie.

When he was doing business in the provincial capital before, he heard others talk about the story of the gendarmerie's internal struggle.

Although the gendarmerie has different levels, since most of these people have a single line of contact with their superiors, and most gendarmerie officers can maintain a single line of contact with the headquarters of the Third Bureau in St. Petersburg, it occasionally happens that low-level gendarmerie impeach high-level gendarmerie.

What if this new gendarmerie captain is not like Colonel Hastingov who knows flexible social skills, but is a complete rookie, then what can be done?

The more Bakalkin pondered, the more flustered he became. He quickly rang the bell on the desk, called the servant, and ordered: "Peter, go ask Colonel Hastingoff if he is asleep. If not, ask him to get up and say... just say I want to invite him to have a cup of tea."

"Got it, sir."

The servant hurriedly closed the door and left, and Bakalkin's muttering sounded in the study again.

"If this military police captain is really a person with a hot temper, will he find out my secret on the spot?"

Bakalkin secretly cursed his stupidity.

Although Colonel Hastingoff seems to be elegant, he is not a die-hard who can be relied on. This guy seems to be indifferent to local affairs, as if he is willing to leave everything to them to handle, but the more such people are, the more they like to protect themselves.

If the matter is not exposed, of course you are good, I am good, and everyone is good, but if something goes wrong, he will definitely be the first to jump off the ship.

Thinking of this, Bakalkin's heart almost jumped out of his chest.

He walked to the desk again, as if he had forgotten the report that had been soaked with ink. When he grabbed another document, he found that his hands were shaking slightly, and the pages seemed to be trembling between his fingertips.

The servant came back soon. His eyes glanced at Bakalkin nervously, and there was an unknown hesitation and depression in his tone: "Colonel Hestingov was sleeping deeply. I knocked on the door just now, but he didn't." response."

"What!" he said hurriedly, with a hint of urgency in his tone: "You ignorant fool! Why don't you wake him up? Tell the colonel that I have an urgent matter here and I need his help!"

Outside the door, Captain Hute's footsteps could be heard.

His steady and powerful steps made Bakalkin's heart beat faster, as if every step stepped on his nerves.

When the door was pushed open, Bakalkin immediately put on an expression of enthusiasm but dignity.

"Captain Hught, welcome to your arrival." He bowed slightly and his tone was respectful, but without losing any sense of proportion. "I wonder what your purpose is for this trip? If necessary, I will fully cooperate."

Hute nodded coldly and glanced sharply at every corner of the room, as if examining whether there was any secret hidden in this space. He did not rush to answer, but paused for a moment and said in a very threatening tone: "Mr. Mayor, we are just visiting on a routine basis. However, I think you should understand that the military police never do meaningless things." thing."

A stiff smile appeared on Bakarkin's face. He suppressed the fear in his heart and greeted politely: "Please sit down, please sit down, Captain. I wonder if you need hot tea or anything else?"

"Thank you, no need." Hute still stood, his voice steady but unquestionable, "I think our conversation does not need to drag on too long. We need to understand some things, and I hope you can answer truthfully."

Cold sweat broke out on Bakalkin's back. He reluctantly nodded and forced himself to show what he thought was a decent smile.

He knew in his heart that this would never be just a "routine" and he had to be fully alert to deal with the cold military police in front of him.

Bakalkin suppressed the panic in his heart, smiled and motioned Hute to sit down: "Mr. Captain, what do you do for me? If you need anything, just ask, and I will do my best."

Huter was not in a hurry to answer. Instead, he looked around the study for a while, and his eyes fell on the snowflakes outside the window. Immediately, he casually glanced at Bakalkin's desk. The mountains of documents on it did not seem to arouse his too much attention. Much interest.

He paused for a moment and spoke slowly and tentatively: "I'm here to see Colonel Hestingov. I heard that he has been feeling unwell recently?"

As soon as Bakalkin heard that the other party was not here to investigate Druisk, his tense nerves suddenly relaxed, and even the smile that was deformed due to nervousness became much more natural.

"Ah! You are looking for the colonel! Mr. Colonel has indeed suffered from the cold and has been recuperating at my place these days. If you are not in a hurry, you can see him tomorrow. The colonel is probably asleep now, you know. The patient is weak, so he goes to bed early.”

When Hute heard this, even his tone became a lot stiffer.

Because he was not here to care about the colonel's health, but to suspect that the colonel he had never met might have encountered some kind of improper interference.

Bakalkin’s words obviously deepened his concerns in this regard.

Hute smiled slightly, but there was no warmth in his smile: "I have heard about Colonel Hestingoff's professionalism, and you really shouldn't ignore this. Since the colonel is unwell, can you tell me? What difficulties did he encounter? After all, as military police, we have the responsibility to ensure the health of every officer and avoid any hidden dangers."

If local officials really had evil intentions against the military police colonel, Hueter's words would be enough to scare them away.

But when these words fell on the ears of Bakarkin, who had a good cooperation with Hestingoff, it deepened his awe for the promising colonel.

He was worthy of being the rising star of Petersburg, a popular figure in front of the Emperor and Count Benkendorf, and even the local military police who were passing by him would shamelessly pay their respects when they heard the colonel's name.

Are you still concerned about the colonel's health?

No matter how unhealthy he is, he is still healthier than the group of people you sentenced to political exile.

The mayor was about to speak in an official tone when the door to the study room was suddenly pushed open by a servant.

The valet nodded and bowed and invited the sleepy Arthur into the study. However, before he could enter the door, the mayor greeted him in a fuss: "Oh! Colonel, why are you here?"

Having said this, he did not forget to glare at the servant: "You bastard, the colonel was sleeping soundly, why did you wake him up? In my opinion, you want to be whipped!"

The servant was scolded for no apparent reason. Just as he was about to defend himself, Bakalkin kicked him out without explanation.

Bakalkin respectfully invited Arthur to sit on the sofa by the fire, and thoughtfully took his coat to put on him. Finally, he did not forget to say to Captain Hutte in a reproachful tone: "You Look! You don't believe me when I say the colonel is sick."

Hutte's eyes never left Arthur the moment he entered the room.

Even if Bakkalkin's quips and antics seem a little over the top, Huter remains calm and collected.

His gaze was like a sharp knife, sharp and impossible to ignore, but when it fell on Arthur, it seemed particularly detailed.

Arthur took the teacup handed over by Bakalkin and rinsed his mouth. He raised his eyelids and glanced at the unfamiliar face in front of him: "Mr. Mayor, who is this?"

Without waiting for Bakalkin to introduce him, Huett raised his hand and saluted: "Hello, Colonel. Richard Huett, Cavalry Captain of the Second District of the Imperial Military Police Regiment. I escorted the prisoner passing by here, and I heard that you are executing an execution here. It’s official business, so I stopped by to pay a visit.”

When Arthur heard this identity, his heart skipped a beat.

"Captain Richard Hueter..." Arthur's voice was calm, and he chatted in an unhurried tone: "I have heard of your name. You are quite famous in the military police regiment."

If Hueter was just an ordinary captain, he might question Arthur's words, but who makes him the only British military policeman in the military police regiment?

This identity has indeed given him a certain degree of popularity. Even if the colonel knows his name, it is not particularly unusual.

"You probably heard what other people in the General Administration said, right?" Hueter smiled: "I can't say I'm famous. At most, my identity as an Englishman makes me more conspicuous in the regiment."

British?

When the old man heard this keyword, he immediately remembered the incident that Shubinsky had talked about with him before.

He nodded slightly as if he had heard about it a long time ago: "Shubinsky mentioned you to me. Regarding your joining the Military Police, the director personally wrote a letter to consult the British Minister for his opinion."

"You know Colonel Shubinski?" Hueter was slightly surprised: "Is it possible that you also worked in the Second District before?"

Arthur did not answer directly, but nodded politely towards Bakarkin: "Mr. Mayor, the captain and I have something private to discuss."

Bakar Jin was eager to leave this hellish place as soon as possible. No one likes to stand next to the military police, not even the governor, let alone a little mayor like him: "Of course, of course, you two can talk slowly, I'll go and let you know I’ll prepare some refreshments for you.”

Arthur watched the mayor close the door, picked up the teapot and poured Hute a cup of black tea: "Shubinski and I are old acquaintances, are you his subordinate?"

"I can't talk about my subordinates, but I did receive his care."

Hutte seemed very restrained in front of Arthur: "I first worked for the British Moscow Company as a company employee. The main business of the Moscow Company was to import woolen fabrics and firearms to Russia, and then trafficked Russian honey, fish oil, furs, and timber. Back in the UK. Once, I was responsible for the uniform procurement business with the Gendarmerie Regiment, so I got to know several Gendarmerie officers in Moscow, including the Gendarmerie Commander in Moscow, General Volkov. , and there was also Colonel Shubinsky, the Moscow superintendent. Later, the gendarmerie wanted to borrow the company's accounts in order to investigate a rebellion case. I facilitated them and helped them list the data they wanted, so they were half-joking. They said I had the talent to be a military police officer and asked me if I wanted to join the Military Police Corps. They encouraged me to apply to the Military Police Corps. At first, I just wanted to give it a try, but I didn’t expect that I actually passed.”

Although Arthur had heard about this incident in advance, he was still surprised to hear the person involved: "I know there are many German officers in the regiment, but most of them are second or even third generation immigrants. Even if The first generation has also become a Russian national, and you are the only one who has retained his foreign nationality and served in the military police. Have you never thought of changing your nationality to Russian? "

It was obviously not the first time Hueter had been asked this question, but he was obviously quite resistant to it.

Why not change your nationality to Russian?

This was naturally due to the fact that as a British man serving as a gendarme he could see the gendarme as a special job and the Tsar as his boss.

Once he changes to Russian nationality, he will have to treat his work as his life and the Tsar as his master like other military policemen.

He liked the status and wealth that a military police officer brought him, but he did not want to risk exile to Siberia.

Hueter answered vaguely: "If the time is right, I will definitely change my nationality, but now I am just a captain. According to the "Law Collection" promulgated last year, anyone who is of low origin and serves in military service, administration, and palace service of officials served until 8 A person of high rank will receive the title of hereditary noble along with the legal children born when he holds this position. In other words, I have to become a major before I consider changing my nationality. If I change my nationality now, I can only get the status of a lifelong noble. , this is too uneconomical.”

Naturally, Huett's rhetoric could not deceive Arthur, but after confirming that the other party was still a British national, the cultural counselor in Russia who had not yet taken office discovered a topic that Huett couldn't get around: "But in this case, Isn’t it too troublesome?”

"trouble?"

"Yes!" Arthur stood up and said, "You are a British citizen, so don't you have to go to the British Embassy to renew your passport every year? What should you do if they don't renew your passport?"