Chapter 546 Ch545 That's OK

Chapter 546 Ch.545 That’s okay

Mason Lyle has been in a lot of trouble lately.

He 'accidentally' killed a woman, and then lost his 'material' - the chance to touch the spell that set him apart from a mortal.

The benefactor is above!

Who would have thought that that son of a bitch would actually run away? !

Anto is like a stupid pig! He even took a nap during the vigil!

No.

Worse than a pig!

He got angry, whipped the young, but inconsiderate and pitiful child, became angry with everyone in the circus, and ordered them not to leave the tent from today on.

No entry into the city is allowed.

Not allowed to go into the woods.

Except for doing things for him, otherwise, just stay in the tent.

He groaned angrily as the seat of the public carriage bumped. The stones on the road sometimes caused the wheels to bounce off the ground. The distance of a few hairs was transmitted to the seat through the axle, which made his butt hurt - gravel, granite and wood, It’s hard to imagine which big shot’s clever mind came up with the idea of ​​paving the way with these gadgets.

How is this possible without cutting corners?

The potholed road turns into a quagmire when it rains. Wooden pavement can reduce noise and vibration, but it is very easy to rot - this is London! Damn it!

Is all the tax spent on this place?

Mason Lyle thought as the wheels struck another short pit.

Bang.

"You should put a soft cushion on it!"

He pulled on the armrest and yelled at his neck.

The coachman's answer was interesting.

"You should try harder and save your ass from the pain, sir."

Mason Lyle was furious.

"The road builder who deserves to be hanged cut corners just like you, and is lazier than a pig..." He muttered to himself, with a temper that he didn't know where he came from - he didn't think he had changed in any way, it was all because of Things haven't been going well lately.

"Then you have to ask Holy Cross." The coachman replied happily.

Roads are the responsibility of the parish.

It was constantly dug up and resurfaced. Differences in opinions led to the stagnation of the project, confusion about the rights and responsibilities at the boundary, disputes between workers and clergy, the relationship between clergy and the church, some selfish motives of bishops and responsible persons, etc...

The coachman's short-sightedness failed to take into account the larger ruler behind the Holy Cross, but this alone was enough for him to fight back against the chattering man along the way.

"Black-hearted..."

When Mason Lyle heard the roar of ‘Holy Cross’, he immediately bowed down in humility.

But he was still mumbling, just with a different target.

The carriage just flowed through the lively streets until they reached their destination.

Crossing half of London from the suburbs, the fare is not cheap - which is why the coachman can tolerate this gentleman.

I really should have agreed before and let him sit on the top.

"Sevenpence plus tolls, sir."

He rested his arms, jumped off like the passengers, patted the horse's back twice, and supported it with his arms.

It snorted.

"Sevenpence, including tolls, thirteen in total."

The coachman straightened his felt hat, rubbed his fingers, and smiled ingratiatingly at Mason Lyle.

Mason Lyle was not in a hurry. He adjusted his collar and glanced sideways at him.

"Thirteen?" He tilted his upper body questioningly and looked at the silent horse: "I don't think you're feeding anything. If you want thirteen, who do you want it for?"

The driver was stunned for a moment, not understanding the meaning of this sentence.

What ‘what to feed’.

"gentlemen?"

"You just waved your whip, didn't you sit in the car like me?" Mason Lyle tightened his collar, stamped his feet a few times, and looked towards the small townhouse not far away: "If you follow the horse all the way As of now, I think it’s worth thirteen.”

The driver understood this time.

"Sir," he almost laughed angrily at the miser: "My sir, you can't say that. I rented a car and a horse, and I have to bear the rent, wear and tear, and repairs, including those of those black-skinned debt collectors. Exploitation - how can you say that?"

Mason Lyle raised his head and said, "You are just doing the work, so you should bear this."

The driver crossed his arms and said, "You don't want to pay, do you?"

Mason Lyle shook his head: "Of course not. It's just that, regarding the fare, I think it needs to be discussed..."

The coachman said in a rough voice: "Only thirteen! If one is missing, I will..."

He wanted to say a few threatening words, but looking at this man, he looked like a flower dumpling waving in the wind - well-dressed and expensive, which best reflects a person's identity and status at the moment.

He didn't dare to really hurt this man.

"Okay, how much money do I make in a day? How can you argue with someone like me? "

These words are useful to ordinary gentlemen, but they are really lacking in Mason Lyle.

"I can't teach you to cheat money out of me in such a cheap manner," he closed his sleeves and was about to leave: "I've been going through a long journey, and I haven't asked you to compensate me for the wear and tear of my pants..."

When the coachman saw that he was about to leave, he felt anxious and reached out to grab his arm.

In an instant, a pair of bloodshot eyes widened in his sight!

He was pressed against the carriage with his nose almost pressed against his nose.

He could clearly hear heavy breathing, and a strong smell of blood sprayed on his face - he was stared at by those blood-red eyes, as if he was facing a beast that chose people to eat.

He has seen packs of wild dogs, which are much scarier than wild dogs.

"That's my money——"

The driver trembled, not daring to look him in the eye again: "... Sir, sir... I... I just want to make a living..."

"My money, my money! Mine! Mine! It's my money! No one can take my money! Mine, my, my, my--"

He chanted like crazy, and the driver pushed him away, pushed him to the ground, jumped on the car, whipped the horse's buttocks to death, and fled.

Mason Lyle sat for a moment with a gloomy face, ignoring those surprised and contemptuous eyes, stood up with his cane, and patted his legs.

"My money."

Muttered.

"No one can take my things."

He staggered to a house, which was where he and May had agreed to meet often-Ms. Burns's maid, they had been together for a long time.

"Save another ten pennies."

He opened the door with the key, entered the house, and found an empty milk bottle and a clean wooden cup on the table in the middle.

This made him angry again.

Obviously, the case was solved.

Mei had just bought milk, but she didn't drink it from the bottle. Instead, she learned a bad habit and poured it into a cup.

The worst thing was.

After she finished drinking, she even washed the cup - benefactor! Does it need to be washed? !

Since she had already used the cup, if she wanted to drink milk again in the future, wouldn't it be better to continue pouring it into the cup?

There must be some milk stains left in it, and now it's good.

All washed away.

If one bottle of milk is wasted like this, ten bottles, a hundred bottles, a thousand bottles.

How many bottles of milk will she drink in her lifetime.

How much money will she waste?

Mason Lyle made a decision in his heart.

When he made her mistress, Ms. Burns, his wife, he would definitely get rid of Mei.

She might have wasted a lot of money on milk for Ms. Burns.

Mason Lyle carefully picked up the cup and held it to his nose to smell it.

Sure enough, there was still milk smell.

He suddenly stopped moving his nose, becoming more and more dissatisfied.

He heard some creaking sounds.

It came from the bedroom at the end of the living room.

A flame exploded.

He tiptoed, suppressing the anger that was about to explode, to the door that was not closed tightly...

He kicked the door open!

As expected.

The maid Mei, and a strange, slender man.

Mason Lyle roared: "Look at what you did!"

Before the panicked man could speak, Mei tilted her head from under his shoulder, patted his back breathlessly, and told him to focus on the business and not to be distracted by irrelevant things.

Then, she pointed to a box of well-packaged lamb sausages on the bedside table.

"He... Oh... This... This is what he bought... I didn't spend a penny..."

Suddenly.

Mason Lyle actually breathed a sigh of relief.

That's good.