Chapter 140: Spirit Channeling Result

Chapter 140: Spirit Channeling Result

After watching Miss Messenger leave, Klein glanced at the letter paper in his hand and once again considered the matter of West Balam.

He believed that he had to prepare for the possibility that Mr. Azik might not reply for the next month. In other words, when early July arrived, he might have to go to West Balam only with a few military personnel, without the protection of the former Death Consul. In that case, the shadow of the Rose School of Thought would always loom over his head.

“Two plans. If I determine the danger is extremely great, I will directly abandon the identity of Dawn Dantes. Otherwise, I must seriously consider the ‘client list’ and not place any force suspected of having ties to the Rose School of Thought within my range of contact… Mm, instead of that, it would be better to set the targets in advance and keep accidents controllable…

“The intelligence Danitz provided should come from Vice Admiral Iceberg. Among it, two native generals seem rather special… No matter what other forces are like, they are always marked as closer to Loen, Intis, Feysac, or Feynapotter, or as internally balanced between multiple factions with each having their own leaning. Only those two have annotations that do not mention any foreign country. They merely say that they receive support from the Numinous Episcopate…”

Klein reread the letter from the beginning and vaguely grasped something.

He preliminarily suspected that these two native generals had established connections with the Church of Knowledge. Edwina, by not marking them, was deliberately highlighting their special nature and telling Gehrman Sparrow that these were potential cooperation partners.

In this way, she did not need to worry that Danitz might leak information, because there was no information available to leak—only a hint.

“Mesanyes, Katami… The former received support from the royalist faction within the Numinous Episcopate. The latter secretly calls himself a descendant of Death… Heh. Even if that is true, he is a descendant separated by who knows how many generations. If he met Mr. Azik, what should he call him?”

Klein laughed once and casually shook the letter, burning it away.

Afterward, he enjoyed a refined afternoon tea in the half-open room with the large balcony until Butler Walter entered and lowered his voice.

“Sir, another police officer has come because of the Caron suicide case.”

The public clues in that matter still pointed toward Dawn Dantes. Therefore, even with Baron Syndras handling the follow-up, the police still had to visit from time to time. Otherwise, the newspaper reporters would surely accuse them of dereliction of duty.

As for the attack on Councilman Macht, since Dawn Dantes was only a relatively important witness, after his statement was recorded, he was no longer disturbed.

“Please invite them to the sitting room on the second floor facing the garden,” Klein said, placing the half-eaten light-cream sponge cake back onto its tray and drinking a mouthful of black tea.

As the employer, he did not need to worry about wasting the refreshments served during afternoon tea, because the remaining portions belonged to the footmen and maids. If he ate every bit clean every time, or requested that the household prepare only the exact right amount, his reputation for stinginess would spread among the servants in this neighborhood and enter the ears of ladies and gentlemen.

Walter’s expression did not change much as he replied, “They wish to invite you to the police station because today is the day Caron’s family identifies the suspect.

“They said they are very sorry, but this is a necessary procedure and cannot be omitted.”

Klein slowly stood and said, “I understand. Richardson, fetch my coat, hat, and cane.”

Since he had already jumped into the matter, he was quite willing to observe from the sidelines and see what exactly had happened to Caron and his family, and how events would shift toward Baron Syndras.

…

At the North Borough police branch, inside a spacious room.

Separated from Caron’s family by a wall of glass, Klein saw an old gentleman, an old lady, a woman close to forty, a youth of fifteen or sixteen, and a girl under ten.

Their gazes swept over the suspects behind the glass wall and simultaneously landed on Dawn Dantes’s face.

“It’s him! It’s him!” the youth shouted loudly. His eyes reddened at once, and his hands clenched into fists as he tried to rush toward the glass wall.

“It’s him, officer. It’s him.” The woman approaching forty suddenly burst into tears. Her gaze toward Dawn Dantes was filled with hatred and enmity.

The little girl she held cried loudly.

“Papa! Give me back my papa!”

The two elderly people wiped away tears. One forcibly remained calm, while the other sobbed so hard that she seemed about to faint. A sorrowful atmosphere instantly spread through the room.

And yet, before this moment, Klein had never even seen them.

Were memories implanted into them?

He frowned faintly. While sighing, he guessed what exactly Caron’s family had encountered.

At the same time, in the underground morgue of this police station.

Daly Simone picked up a pencil. Her body trembled slightly as she began drawing a sketch.

Because she had come to the police station to help and might meet newspaper reporters when entering or leaving, she was not wearing her customary Spirit Medium robe. Instead, she had changed into a black-and-white checkered policewoman uniform, with an upper garment, skirt, and knee-high leather boots.

At that moment, her hand moved back and forth uncontrollably. Soon, a desk, a bay window, an ink bottle, a revolver, and other objects appeared on the surface of the paper.

And reflected on the bay window was a figure.

That figure’s hair was neatly combed back, silver-white and black interwoven. He had a broad forehead, rather high cheekbones, and many wrinkles. It was none other than Baron Syndras!

Snap!

The pencil in Daly’s hand fell onto the paper.

She then lifted her head and said to Leonard Mitchell, who had taken the initiative to help, and to the two inspectors responsible for coordination, “At the instant Caron committed suicide, there was very strong resistance within his heart. In other words, his suicide involved suggestion and guidance. This is not a simple psychological issue; it inevitably involves higher-level Beyonder powers.

“And that contradiction, that conflict, caused his emotions to collapse and his spirituality to explode. Before death, to a certain degree, he restored the true appearance of things. This is the image fixed in his ‘eyes.’”

The senior inspector beside her frowned deeply.

“Madam Simone, do you mean that the last person Caron saw was the true culprit? That Baron Syndras really is the true culprit?”

Leonard Mitchell immediately let out a scoff.

“What the eyes see may not necessarily equal truth.

“You might not understand if I say illusion, but if I were the murderer, I could completely find someone who closely resembled Baron Syndras and have him appear inside the room before Caron committed suicide.”

The two inspectors were very satisfied with this explanation and simultaneously breathed out in relief.

“We will immediately arrange for Caron’s family to come over. Please trouble the two of you to obtain more and truer clues in a way that does not harm them.”

“Alright.” Daly rubbed the corner of her eye. “I will go to the washroom first.”

This time, she had not painted on strange eye shadow or blush. Aside from her skin appearing somewhat pale, she no longer had that bewitching feeling at all. Moreover, she seemed to have suddenly become much younger, retreating from her early thirties into her twenties. Her brows and eyes were clear, and her features delicate and beautiful.

Leonard Mitchell thought of how they would be busy for quite some time afterward, so he also left the morgue and walked toward the washroom on the upper level.

The two had just finished climbing the stairs and rounded the corner when they suddenly saw a gentleman with graying temples appear at the other end of the corridor, heading toward the police station entrance with a footman.

This gentleman was mature and refined, with a pair of deep eyes like lakes beneath moonlight. It was precisely Dawn Dantes.

Daly Simone fell into a brief daze. Thoughtfully, she tilted her head and looked toward Leonard Mitchell. She discovered that this black-haired, green-eyed “poet” was also watching Dawn Dantes.

“Why did you suddenly request to come help me earlier? That member of the Numinous Episcopate should be close to being locked down, and you should not lack things to do…”

Daly gave Leonard no chance to search for an excuse. After pausing for a second, she asked directly, “Do you think that gentleman just now has a problem?”

Leonard withdrew his gaze. After two seconds of silence, he said, “Dawn Dantes has met His Grace the archbishop.”

He deliberately gave neither confirmation nor denial. Instead, he seemingly answered an irrelevant point by mentioning Saint Anthony.

His unspoken meaning was this: His Grace the archbishop had not said that Dawn Dantes had any problem. As for whether he had not discovered it, or had simply not said so, that was unknown.

Daly nodded lightly. Her gaze drew inward as she turned toward the washroom.

…

Wednesday morning. Holding an invitation, Audrey Hall rode a carriage to Phelps Street, where Saint Samuel Cathedral was located.

The soon-to-be-established Loen Charity Educational Assistance Fund was located at 22 Phelps Street. The building belonged to the Evernight Church, so no rent had to be paid.

Before stepping off the carriage, Audrey held the invitation, gazed at the scenery outside the window, and filled with anticipation for the future.

She would become a trustee on the board, entering the fundraising and external liaison department to work.