In the early morning, Ed limped down the stairs, the white crow cane finally fulfilling its original role. This was the "result" of last night's close combat training-a few bruises, scrapes, and terrible soreness. .
Thank God, Miss Quinn basically stayed within the limits and showed mercy. At least she could sit up from the bed and change clothes independently.
And, a blessing in disguise, at least I don't have to train today.
He sighed happily.
Mr. Eaton was already sitting at the curved desk, flipping through current and past mission files, writing down some clues he thought were noteworthy on cards, and sorting them into drawers in order.
He always works late and gets up early, as if he is racing against time. Presumably that's why Dylan looks no older than forty, while he looks like he's in his sixties.
"Good morning, Ed." Mr. Eaton didn't look up.
"Good morning. Where's Quinn?"
"Coffee shop, East End stronghold, or just hanging out. Do you have anything to do with her?"
"It's okay, just asking casually."
After more than a month, he had roughly understood Quinn's habits: she couldn't stay inside the house, and would wander around non-stop once she was free - even if there was lightning, thunder, wind and rain outside, she would still be under the eaves. Take a walk.
"Can you please run an errand for me? I need to hand over to him the medical expenses that Dylan paid in advance."
As he spoke, Eaton placed a bulging envelope on the table, which was obviously full of cash.
"No problem, but why not use a check?"
Ed put his hand on the envelope and asked with some confusion.
Upon hearing this question, Eaton, who had his hands on the table, suddenly raised his head and glanced at Ed with a meaningful look.
"Oh, I get it……"
Hualiu Lane on Mansha Street does not accept checks, so Father Dylan obviously needs to prepare more cash. He rolled his eyes and put the envelope in his arms.
Looking up at the mouse-grey sky, raindrops are dripping from the roof, watering the green potted plants at the door. The accumulated rainwater seeped out from the bottom of the basin and formed a dirty stream.
It is raining again.
The air was a bit cold, so he put on his coat, put on his rain boots, held up an umbrella and walked out of the detective station. The footsteps pattered in the rain.
This is not unusual in Silvermist City. No one will delay anything because of rain: travel, parties, weddings, or even crimes.
Just like now——
The old man fell to the ground with the muddy bread in his arms. Rainwater flowed from his beard. He ignored the whipping of the baton and desperately stuffed the bread into his mouth. The look was really miserable.
Surprisingly, Ed recognized the man - he had given the old beggar a sixpence before going to Mr. Freud.
As for the policeman who whipped the old tramp, he had never seen it before, and he could only tell from the epaulette that he was a sergeant. He had a mustache on his lips, and raindrops were dripping down his bell-shaped police helmet and raincoat.
"What did he do?"
Ed walked over and stood between the patrolman and the old man. Although the other party is definitely not his opponent, if possible, Ed still doesn't want to fight in broad daylight - not even when it's raining.
"I would not advise you to meddle in internal police matters, sir. There is clear evidence that the homeless man committed theft."
"It seems to me that he only stole a piece of bread."
“Bread is also sacrosanct private property.”
Sanitary Officer Hu raised his head, and the edge of the hood of his raincoat blocked his sight. He had to turn his nostrils upward to see Ed.
"Well, what if I would pay for the bread for him?"
"I'm afraid this won't work. He is also guilty of vagrancy."
“Is even homelessness a crime?”
In Laurea, the crime of vagrancy was defined as the police arresting and transferring to the workhouse those who had no fixed abode and who had no legitimate means of livelihood and no money.
"I am only the executor of the law, not the maker. You should ask the gentlemen in Congress about this kind of thing."
The policeman shook his baton, apparently unmoved.
"I have an Imperial Silver Sunflower Medal."
The old man tremblingly took out the silver medal from his torn blouse. The silk ribbon had been torn, and the coat of arms was weathered and blackened by the traces of time, as if he was holding a piece of black iron.
His hands were trembling because of the cold, and the medal was trembling slightly with him. The sunflower representing Lyria was also trembling and crying in the rain.
"You must have cash. This piece of scrap metal can't prove anything. It might have been stolen. Even if you have accomplished some great achievements, it cannot offset your current crime."
Despite losing part of his memory, just thinking of the word "workhouse" is enough to make Ed feel uncomfortable.
He took out a sixpence from his coat and stuffed it into the old man's hand, while "accidentally" revealing the coat of arms of the Divine Bureau on the inside:
"Now he has money. I will pay the shopkeeper separately for the bread. Can you make an allowance?"
"Oh, oh, you really...why do you have to go to such trouble for a scum of society?"
The other party obviously also knew that the Shen Tong Bureau was not easy to mess with. He bowed slightly to show weakness, then turned to the homeless man and said in a sinister tone:
"Okay... In that case, let's forget it for today. I guess we will meet again one day, Mr. Tramp."
After saying that, Inspector Hu hurriedly left in the silver rain curtain.
"Thank you, kind sir, for saving my poor old man's life."
Although the expression on his face was very painful, the old beggar still thanked him while swallowing the bread.
It seems that the other party does not remember him. That's reasonable. A beggar like him might encounter thousands of people every day.
Ed squatted down holding an umbrella. The old man's face was sickly red, like a rotten carrot. Maybe he's sick.
"Can you stand up?"
"I don't know, my arm seems to be broken."
He muttered somewhat desperately. For such an elderly homeless man, even the smallest injury could lead to death.
"Let me help you up first while I go to the bakery to pay. I know a very skilled surgeon. You will be fine."
"yes……"
I don't know if that sentence touched him, but the other person's confused face suddenly regained a trace of consciousness and murmured:
"We will survive, always have."
…
