"This is my assistant." Essinger, with a thin and angular face, introduced, "Please sit down."

He did not close the door of the carriage, nor let the coachman drive the horses forward, to show that he was innocent.

Klein deliberately sat down awkwardly, and asked a little uneasily, "Mr. Stanton, what do you want to talk to me about?"

Essinger took out a dark pipe and said, "I want to know what you have gained from tracking Ms. Lopez. What have you heard or discovered?"

"This... I am also a detective, you should know that there is a confidentiality agreement in our line of work." Klein replied with pretentious embarrassment.

"I'm asking you on behalf of Severus, and this has nothing to do with the confidentiality agreement." Essinger stroked the pipe with his thumb, "1 pound, um... how about 2 pounds?"

With the lessons learned from the previous Meursault incident and the fact that there was no need to keep it secret, Klein immediately replied without hesitation: "Yes."

"Okay." Essinger smiled and took out two 1 pound notes from his pocket.

Klein pretended to be recalling, and said frankly: "We only heard one sentence. Ms. Lopez tried to send her subordinates to tell Capin not to send anyone over in the near future."

"Carpin?" Essinger nodded slightly in surprise, "I see."

"You know Capin?" Klein didn't hide his astonishment.

Essinger handed over the banknote and said with a faint smile, "He is a controversial rich man in Jorwood."

"In Backlund, innocent young girls often disappear in secluded streets, and after a long period of time, they may be accidentally found in various legal or illegal brothels. A lot of rumors point to Kapin, I think he is a criminal leader with bloody hands and dirty body, but because there is not enough evidence, he is still free and has known many big people."

If it's true, this guy deserves to die ten thousand times... Klein nodded and sighed, "This is Ruen, this is Backlund, Mr. Stanton, I should take my leave."

"Thank you for your cooperation." Essinger politely half stood up and sent him off. "By the way, your fighting skills are quite good. Maybe we will have opportunities to cooperate in the future. What should I call you?"

"Sherlock Moriarty." Klein answered succinctly, and got off the carriage.

After he boarded the tram that had just arrived, Isengard Stanton asked his assistant to close the door, and told the driver to go to Hillston District.

Looking sideways out of the window, this middle-aged and elderly gentleman with gray temples put his dark pipe away, took out a brass ornament from his pocket, and slowly rubbed it in his hand.

The brass ornament was a small open book with a vertical eye in the center.

"The appearance and attire of Mr. Moriarty just now are a little inconsistent. He wears very elegant gold-rimmed glasses, but deliberately grows a beard around his mouth, which looks vulgar and barbaric. This is not in line with normal thinking. Now this In this era, people who are willing to wear gold-rimmed glasses are often very concerned about their own image, an image of knowledge and temperament, maybe, he is deliberately hiding something...Of course, it is also possible that he is a gentleman with a different aesthetic..." Essinger seemed to be talking to himself, but also seemed to be teaching his assistants.

At this moment, Klein on the stagecoach leaned his back against the wall and muttered silently: "There is something wrong with that Detective Isengard Stanton. Ever since I opened my Spirit Vision, he has always maintained the blue and blue color of rational thinking. Indifferent and alienated, spirituality dominates the purple, and few other emotional colors emerge."

"For normal people, unless they are concentrating on studying difficult problems, it is difficult to maintain a similar state for too long. Other emotional colors will inevitably appear. The difference is how long they stay."

"Hmm... Either Detective Essinger Stanton is such a genius who is always observing and reasoning, a guy with extraordinary talent, or, he, is a Extraordinary?"

Divided into upper and lower floors, the railroad carriage carrying more than 40 passengers was heading towards the Backlund Bridge area. Klein gradually withdrew his thoughts, turned his gaze out of the window, and admired the two to three floors across the street. style building.

Occasionally, he could still see five to six-story brown houses, which showed the latest trends in Backlund and the kingdom's most cutting-edge construction technology.

After changing trains once, Klein arrived at Iron Gate Street and got off the carriage opposite the Bar of the Brave.

Because it was not the busiest time of the bar, as soon as he entered, he saw Kaspers sitting at the bar drinking.

The rosacea-nosed old man ordered a glass of Liranki, and squinted his eyes contentedly as he savored the aroma of malt and the burning heat that irritated his throat.

Klein moved closer, knocked on the bar, and asked with a smile, "Is Maric here?"

At the same time, he put one hand in his pocket and held Azik's copper whistle, shielding its negative effects with spirituality. JrNovels.com