After listening to Mr. Martin's introduction, Arthur finally understood what he was talking about the Cambrigie group.

It is well known that the British are less family-minded than in continental Europe, and when a child reaches the age of seven or eight, poor families usually find ways to send him to a factory or various shops as an apprentice for seven or eight years, while rich and middle-class families also consider sending their children to boarding schools or to skilled relatives to learn a trade.

Correspondingly, in order to compensate for the lack of family support, Britain has developed a tradition of mutual aid through civil associations, and an Englishman may not necessarily be reunited with his parents once a month, but he will certainly participate in various associations every week.

The range of associations was wide-ranging, religious, learning, economic, professional, recreational, and covered almost every aspect of British life.

The so-called Cambrij group is a spontaneous association of young people who make a living from crime, and the official name should be 'Cambriji's little brothers'.

According to Mr. Martin's account, the group of young men came almost all from a single neighborhood and had been working together in crime from a very young age.

At first, they only engaged in some petty theft, but in recent times, they have begun to develop into active porcelain touching and organized division of labor to steal shops.

They also sometimes visit the wealthy West End to get paid for recovering lost pets for the wealthy.

Of course, many times, a large part of those lost pets are actually stolen by them.

But in any case, if you want to find something or someone, as long as the payment is in place, then these idle young people will always find a way for you.

After Mr. Martin said this, he couldn't help but whisper flattery: "That...... Inspector Hastings, can you draw a thread for me about the tavern I asked you about last time? ”

Arthur closed his notebook full of information and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Martin, you're a little unlucky. You want to open a beer hall, and the idea is really motivating.

Unfortunately, the tavern's license is no longer issued by the magistrate, and it will be useless for me to broker the case for you.

Do you know about the Beer Act, which was just passed this month? It stipulates that the license for the operation of beer halls will be issued by the tax office in a unified manner.

But at the same time, you are in luck, because under the Beer Act, you can apply for a beer sale licence from the Inland Revenue Office as long as you can pay a licence tax of £2 and 2 shillings per year.

However, the sale permit is limited to beer, and if we find you selling sherry, polly and other spirits in your shop, you will be fined £20.

Of course, if you're selling light liquors such as cider or pear wine, you don't need to apply for an additional license.

In addition, I am pleased to inform you that all taxes on beer and cider will be abolished as of the date of the enactment of the Beer Act. ”

Martin listened to Arthur's words, first disappointed, then surprised.

"O my God! And this kind of good thing? Mr. Inspector, you're not making fun of me, are you? ”

Arthur took the notebook into his arms: "You have to thank those who take to the streets every day to protest.

If it weren't for them, the Duke of Wellington wouldn't have suddenly come up with such a copy of the Beer Act.

In order to get those who went out on the streets to go home obediently, this time the cabinet tore up with the magistrates, and even took back the power to issue beer licenses from them.

You may wonder how happy the Duke of Wellington was when the bill passed the third reading of the House of Commons, saying that 'the successful passage of the bill was a greater victory than the Battle of Waterloo'.

But I have to warn you that I've heard that the wine merchants and tavern owners are not happy with the Beer Act because they don't want to let people like you enter the beer market.

If the Duke of Wellington's cabinet falls, there is a possibility that the Beer Act will be amended again. So, if you're planning to open a tavern, hurry up and get your permit during this time. ”

When Martin heard this, he hurriedly covered his forehead and exclaimed, "Oh! Damn it! Thank you so much for the reminder, I will hurry up to the tax office to apply for the license! ”

"Wait!" When Arthur saw that he was going out, he immediately called out to him again.

Mr. Martin turned back and asked, "Is there anything else you have to do?" ”

Arthur walked up and patted him on the shoulder: "Open a tavern is open a tavern, but now that the beer tax has been abolished, at least don't mix the beer you sell with something like alum or bitterwood wormwood, which is poisonous, and it is almost fine to use some lemon juice to enhance the flavor." ”

When Martin heard this, he couldn't help touching the back of his head and sneering: "Look at what you said, if I open a tavern, I must operate with integrity." ”

Arthur looked at the thief in the old boy's eyes, pouted and sighed: "Okay, I believe you." ”

With that, he waved at Tom and Tony behind him, ready to lead them straight to the address Martin had provided them.

Before they went out, Mr. Martin stopped them again.

"Inspector Hastings!"

Arthur raised his eyebrows: "What's wrong?" ”

Martin hesitated for a moment, and then said embarrassedly: "If you plan to go to them, it's best to bring a gun, I heard that they seem to have something to do with Fred." And you know, that group of people are all young people, and young people have a ...... temper in general. Not very stable......"

……

Whitechapel District, 75 Brick Lane, Blackpool Private Detective Agency.

A man wearing a large-brimmed hat and a black trench coat suddenly burst through the door.

He came to the front desk and tapped his fingers lightly on the tabletop, waking up the strong man who was sleeping on the office chair.

The man asked in a deep voice, "Is your boss here?" ”

The strong man rubbed his sleepy eyes, looked up at the guest, he frowned and asked, "Who the are you?" Do you have a letter of introduction? We usually only do regular business here. ”

When the man heard this, his right hand clenched into a fist and slammed it on the table with a thud.

The big-brimmed hat was shocked and fell to the ground, revealing the man's true face.

He took out a flintlock pistol from his arms and put it in the strong man's mouth: "I ask you, your boss, Fred's idiot, is there?!" ”

The strong man was so startled by his sudden outburst that he hurriedly raised his hands upward.

Just as the scene was at a stalemate, the staircase leading to the second floor rang out with the sound of heavy footsteps.

"Yo! Isn't this Sheriff Brydon Jones? Last time, in order to catch a few corpse thieves, I dared to pull out a gun in front of Lao Tzu, and this time I came with a gun, I must have found a good business, right? ”

As soon as he finished speaking, Jones felt the door of the detective agency creak shut, and then several guns were pressed against his head.

Fred, dressed in a crumpled shirt, walked down the stairs, easily snatched Jones's pistol with a snap of his fingers, and then kicked Jones in the stomach, kicking him onto the seat used to entertain guests in the room.

Fred leaned his ass against the corner of the table, pulled his pipe out of his trouser pocket and put it in his mouth.

The little brother next to him knew each other very well, took out a match and lit it for him.

After two puffs of smoke, Fred rubbed his sore neck, pointed at Jones and said, "This kid thinks that Clemens is covering him, so I don't dare to do anything to him." You guys go up together, hit me hard, hit me first until I am happy. ”

There is another shift today, which should be relatively late.

(End of chapter)