The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 955 Ch.954 Preparation
"So, all of a sudden, you found yourself a lover in the orphanage?"

"I said, Roland, Florence is not my lover."

"Oh my goodness! Halida, he even got a name!"

Kingsley rubbed his forehead in pain.

He tried to explain to Roland how he "met" Florence, how he distinguished the brick powder from the flower mud, and how he got the answer he wanted through the temptation and confrontation of words - his keen insight and bold temptation and speculation?
Roland didn't care at all.

He was more concerned about Kingsley and Florence's 'love'.

"No love."

"Just love?"

"No love."

"lust…"

"No love."

"Then love also..."

"No love. Halida, you can arrange for your master to rest."

Halida covered her mouth and laughed non-stop.

She was also a little curious.

What kind of woman would she be able to teach Mr. Kingsley to fall in love with?
"The thought of being with you guys until midnight..." Kingsley pulled open the curtains in the carriage and opened the window to let the wind in.

"What midnight?"

"Midnight, Roland. I just told you—Florence is obviously hiding something. We must go at night."

"We...?" As soon as Roland hesitated, Kingsley immediately understood what he meant.

"No deal for more than ten shillings."

"Oh, why would I talk to you about money, Kingsley?" Roland smiled and leaned on Halida's shoulder, nodding his head: "I will help you, and you will help me too, right? Great Detective, when the mission is over, help me find someone..."

Kingsley sat up a little straighter.

This is his area of ​​expertise.

"Does the executor of the Inquisition need a detective?" Having said that, when he thought about the people from the Inquisition coming to him for "help" (imagination), Kingsley was still willing to spend some time listening to this crazy friend's "commission".

"It's not an easy job, Kingsley, you have to be prepared - his name is Mince Chloe, buried in the Ring of Eternal Silence half a year ago -"

Kingsley raised his hand to interrupt, and paused for a moment, with an indescribable strange look on his face.

"I know who you're talking about."

The skeleton hanging from the street lamp.

Carrot Knight.

I don't know who I offended...

and many more.

Roland Collins…

What was the name of the dead lady...something called Chloe...sensational news...

Cherie!

Cherry Chloe!
Her husband, Minth Chloe;

Damn memory!
Kingsley stared at the man sitting opposite him quietly. In the silence that would never be clarified and the lines of his sight that kept blurring, some speculations were rolling into a silver moon hanging high above his head, gradually overlapping with Yongqing's truth...

He is indeed good at it and likes to make bolder assumptions than others.

Just this assumption...

A little too bold.

"Don't drag me into trouble, Roland. I'm not like you."

Kingsley leaned sideways on the headrest, his face obscure in the shadows.

He chose not to point it out.

Roland looked at him for a long while, groaned, and fell into Halida's arms along the bumps, sliding all the way to his little nest, and never moved again.

"I'm sleepy."

He said.

then.

No one spoke in the car anymore.

They would have to retrace their steps to the West End, taking the same amount of time.

Kingsley poked his chin with his fist, staring at the barren land and overgrown weeds outside the window like a sculpture.

Occasionally, I glanced back at the carriage and saw the back of a maid with rosy cheeks.

Trouble is like the sheets I have to wash...

The detective grumbled to himself.

Zhong Shizhong likes to play on the bed recently. When he is ready to rest and read a book while leaning on the pillow, the clever and friendly disabled dog jumps up with its tail like a whip and jumps back and forth between his crossed legs. Then.

The next morning.

Kingsley would find urine in a random spot on the sheets.

He swore that if he had had a less happy childhood, or had seen the terrible things his father and mother did, he would have cut off the head of this bad dog with a boning knife if he had met it.

He really thought so.

I thought while washing the sheets.

As troubled as Roland Collins...

"If I start investigating the new cemetery of the Chloe family, I will inevitably leave traces. You don't know the skills required for this. Some shrewd people can see the problem at a glance. Roland, if you insist on my participation, you have to give me more time... and help."

Kingsley looked out the window, 'talking to himself'.

"It is unlikely that the tomb will be moved away from London. I don't need to investigate the Chloe family. Any family name with dignity will not compromise with criminals. Otherwise, they will never be able to raise their heads and speak again..."

“London is a range.”

"I have to start with the importance of Mince Chloe. At the same time, you have to tell me about the different effects that different levels of ritualists can have - their power, or their might."

"Secondly."

"There aren't many sects that 'run' the cemetery. Apart from the 'Dead Crow', there are only the Great Whirlpool and the Holy Cross. Noti Golden Lamp, Roland, Roland? Ro——"

“Snoring…Snoring…”

Halida stroked her master's black hair and made a 'hush' gesture to the chattering Kingsley.

Kingsley: ...

The detective, finally unable to bear it any longer, silently picked up his cane and used it as a rapier to hit someone on the back of the head.

…………

……

We have to return at midnight.

After Roland had afternoon tea with Kingsley at his house, he clamored to see a doctor - at least he had to ask Halida to buy some bandages to wrap around his head.

He was joking, but Halida was really angry.

Because she had seen Kingsley's cane.

Hidden inside is a musket that can be fired by twisting it.

"How dare you point a gun at my master?!"

Kingsley was speechless.

He was so angry at the time that he didn't think anything unexpected would happen - in fact, there was no accident.

He considered the purpose of this cane and its safety in daily life. He specially asked the craftsman to add a safety: before the iron pin is pulled out, it will not be triggered no matter how hard it is hit - not to mention that he did not put a bullet in it today.

"If you accidentally leave one in the barrel, or if you fire it but forget about it - Mr. Kingsley, have you thought about how to face the master's family, his relatives and friends? 'A joke'? The musket is no joke!"

The maid became more and more anxious as she spoke. She gasped for breath and then started barking non-stop.

Kingsley felt helpless and amused.

I can tell.

Compared to the personal servant who accompanied him when he was young, Halida was obviously more "real" - Kingsley guessed that if he dared to treat this matter with his usual attitude...even if he made half an excuse.

I'm afraid I'll really get beaten.

Before getting off the car, she was like an angry bull, eager to charge forward.

"I apologize, Halida, Roland. For this. I really shouldn't have pointed a gun at my friend."

Kingsley apologized freely.

For his recklessness, and for my own future safety.

But Halida didn't appreciate it. She glared at Kingsley, put down the teacup heavily, and went to prepare clothes for Roland to wear in the evening without looking back.

"You need to be more steady, Kingsley."

The man lying on the queen-sized sofa bed was holding an apple slice in his mouth, his arm crossed over the back of the sofa, his wrist folded and pointing at Kingsley.

Wandering.

Kingsley's eyes were about to roll up to the sky.

"If your maid has used violence against me, or if, within this month, I am assaulted by 'unknown persons' - you will go and look for the new grave of poor Mince-Chloe yourself."

Kingsley had seen Roland's maid's skills.

"Halida was always gentle. And the poor little carrot knight. Before he died, he was having a carrot-to-carrot relationship with another man—"

"We are not in the habit of speaking ill of the dead, Roland." Kingsley frowned.

There was a chuckle from behind the sofa.

"Don't you want to ask him why he died?"

(End of this chapter)