Chapter 158: Detective Moriarty’s First Fan

Chapter One Hundred Fifty-EightDetective Moriarty’s First Fan

“No. It was only good luck. It was only a god protecting me.”

Klein humbly stepped aside and invited Stuart in.

Strictly speaking, what he said was all true. This matter truly was good luck. Before the other party had even accepted the commission, he had already known where Emlyn White was.

As Stuart removed his wool coat and hat and hung them on the rack in the foyer, he shivered and said, “This damned weather is getting colder and colder. Perhaps I should try those coats padded with cotton.”

“This cannot really be called cold, can it? Go to the north of Midsea County, or spend a day in Winter County, and you will understand what true low temperature is, what true winter is,” Klein said with a chuckle.

Immediately after, he asked generously, “A cup of hot coffee?”

“That is exactly what I hoped for.” Stuart followed him toward the first-floor sitting room. “I have been to the north of Midsea County. I know the low temperatures and heavy snow there. It was a rather wonderful holiday. But Backlund’s cold is no worse. It is like magic—it pierces my clothes and seeps into my bones. Oh, a fireplace truly worthy of praise!”

Stuart stood before the charcoal-burning fireplace for a full twenty seconds before sitting on the sofa. Looking at Klein, who was busy brewing instant coffee, he said, “For the New Year, I plan to go south for vacation, to Desi Bay to fish. What about you? Do you have any vacation plans? We have endured Backlund’s air for a whole year and worked hard to save money precisely for holidays like that.”

“Perhaps… also to Desi Bay,” Klein said hesitantly. On the side of his face turned away from Stuart, his expression went absent for a moment.

It concerned a promise.

A promise with his elder brother Benson and younger sister Melissa.

“Haha. When the time comes, I will let you see my sea-fishing skills.” Stuart chattered on. “We still are not wealthy enough. Otherwise, I would truly like to travel to Feysac, to Intis, or even to the Southern Continent.”

Klein finished preparing the coffee and handed the white-glazed porcelain cup to him. Then he retreated two steps and sat opposite.

Holding the cup, Stuart deeply inhaled the rich, warm steam twice.

After recovering for several seconds, he set the cup down and said very formally, “According to our agreement, I will share the payment from this case with you.

“The Whites gave a total of fifty pounds, and your contribution was clearly greater than mine.

“Sherlock, how does thirty pounds sound? I still need to give my informants some compensation for their work.”

Only fifty pounds? A vampire is worth only fifty pounds?

Klein could not help grumbling inwardly.

However, he knew it was not that Mr. and Mrs. White had not wanted to increase the bounty. They probably feared that if they offered too much money, they would frighten the detectives instead, making them develop unnecessary thoughts and thereby draw attention from the police or certain official organizations.

To ordinary private detectives, a fifty-pound commission was already attractive enough. Back when Klein had hired someone to investigate every red-chimneyed house in all of Tingen and its suburban towns, he had spent only around seven pounds.

“In addition, the Whites gave another pound, saying it was your carriage fare over the past few days.”

Slightly puzzled, Stuart took out six five-pound notes and one one-pound note.

Klein reached out, accepted them, and casually checked their authenticity without explaining the matter of the carriage fare.

Stuart did not ask further. Instead, he smiled.

“Other than Mr. Stanton, you are the most outstanding detective I have ever seen. Did you enter the profession midway, or did you once learn from some great detective?”

Learn from which great detective? There are many. Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, that eternally elementary school student, that fellow who bluffs in his grandfather’s…