Chapter 412 Britain, Don't Cry for Me (Part 2)

If we are destined to do something, then everything in the past is a prologue.

——Shakespeare's "The Tempest"

In the London Stock Exchange, Lionel lowered his head and listened quietly to Arthur's plan. The Jewish young man's mood was as good as ever. There was neither a smile nor a hint of sadness on his face. mood.

He just held the silver-plated round-headed cane, put it slightly on the floor of the hall, shook his head slightly at Arthur, and whispered: "Arthur, of course we are friends, so if you It’s no problem if I want Rothschild to provide an interest-free loan of ten thousand pounds or twenty thousand pounds. However, this is not a matter of tens of thousands of pounds. If I really do what you said, once Greenway. If the political situation does not develop as we expected, then Rothschild's business in Britain for more than ten or twenty years will be destroyed today. "

Having said this, Lionel also took out a check from his jacket pocket and placed it in front of Arthur: "This money represents my personal trust in you. However, no matter how much it is, it will not be mine." It’s up to the individual to decide. Arthur, you are responsible to the citizens of London, and I am also responsible to all investors who trust Rothschild.”

Arthur took off his hat and glanced at the check in front of him. He smoothed his hair and seemed a little upset.

However, he still smiled and held Lionel's hand: "I have to say, I'm a little disappointed. But, Lionel, I understand your decision."

The trader in front of the window heard the conversation between the two big men and felt as if the sky was about to collapse. He tried his best to pray to God, but he still could not avoid today becoming Good Friday on the stock exchange.

He looked at Lionel's leaving figure and asked Arthur cautiously: "Mr. Police Officer, do you still want to buy public bonds now?"

"Of course." Arthur gathered the checks in front of the window: "And I want to buy more, thirty-seven thousand two hundred pounds, plus the five thousand pounds personally sponsored by Mr. Rothschild."

The trader smiled bitterly after hearing this and said: "Sir, why are you doing this? If you have read "Don Quixote", then you should understand that as a knight, charging at the windmill will not end well. It's bad luck. In rare cases, hanging on is definitely not smart, because smart people usually choose to save their lives to wait for future opportunities, and the strongest foundation in the world is money. "

When Arthur heard this, he just smiled and handed over a stack of money orders in his hand: "It seems that you really like the novel "Don Quixote" so much that you can recite the famous aphorisms in it casually. In this case, you must also remember that it also said, do you know, sir, that a wise Don Quixote is of little use, but a crazy Don Quixote is very interesting."

When the trader heard this, he curled his lips and sighed. He couldn't help but follow Arthur's words: "This sentence may sound unkind, but I really hope that Don Quixote will remain crazy for the rest of his life."

Arthur took off his hat and leaned forward slightly, smiled at him and said: "Then, sir, please."

The trader took a deep breath, stood up from his trading seat, waved the check still stained with Arthur's body temperature, and shouted hoarsely: "Mr. Arthur Hastings, with 85.5 points, won the face value of 43,500." pounds of British debt!”

Thirty-seven thousand two hundred pounds, which is a lot of money, big enough to buy dozens of high-end villas in London.

But on the London Stock Exchange, it looked like a small sum of money, so small that even if it tried its best, it could only push up the panic-stricken British government bonds by 0.1 points.

The stockbrokers and investors glanced at Lionel, who turned away from Arthur. He was sitting motionless in the seat belonging to Rothschild, neither selling public bonds nor buying high-profile.

For those who have been on the London Stock Exchange for many years, they all know what this means. Rothschild received no news, and the crisis at Greenwich remained unresolved.

In an instant, the London Stock Exchange, which had just calmed down, fell into a new round of madness. Many people are trying their best to rush to the trading window where Arthur is located, and this is just to get ahead of others and seize the bond purchase price here which is 0.1 points higher than other windows. .

"I have 2,000 pounds of government bonds here, sell them all!"

"I have 3,700 pounds. If I sell it, I will sell it all!"

"I...I have...damn it! Miller, you old bastard! Don't squeeze me! I never saw before that you turned out to be such an uneducated guy!"

In the new round of selling frenzy, these gentlemen of the City, who are usually known for their elegant demeanor and aristocratic temperament, are like lions that have been hungry for weeks, in order to get the piece of gold thrown out by Arthur. They even didn't hesitate to fight when a shred of meat was torn off the short ribs.

If they hadn't been wary of the thirty or so Scotland Yard police officers who had just arrived, they might have pulled out the pistols stuck in their waists and fired.

Arthur's thirty-seven thousand two hundred pounds was like a bottle of water poured into the sea. Although there was a splash, it didn't take long for the sea to return to its normal state.

85.5 points, 85.2 points, 84.9 points...

On the bulletin board, the staff member holding the chalk to draw lines could hardly keep up with the speed of the decline of government bonds. He had just written a new line of numbers, and before he could catch his breath, the new quotes in his ears forced him to hastily write down the price he had just written and fill in a lower number.

The entire exchange was filled with despair, although most of the gentlemen here were healthy and well-dressed.

But they felt that it was not the Scotland Yard police and the Royal Horse Artillery guarding the Woolwich Arsenal who were fighting with the rioters in Greenwich at this time, but their group of stockbrokers.

This was not the London Stock Exchange, but a hell on earth.

Perhaps they could not bear the huge psychological pressure, or they could not stand the oppressive atmosphere. Some of the elderly men in the crowd had begun to feel dizzy and dizzy. Those who were slightly weaker had been helped by servants to sit on the benches of the stock exchange to rest.

These old men trembled as they pulled out their handkerchiefs and wiped their faces carefully, while they did not forget to stare at the bulletin board in the exchange with their small eyes that had been shrewd for decades.

83.3 points, 83.0 points, 82.8 points, 82.7 points, 82.7 points...

The numbers on the bulletin board were like a flash of lightning, suddenly striking the heads of these shrewd old foxes.

The old men leaned forward and stretched their necks. They looked at each other and communicated with their eyes.

Everyone read a breath of suspicion and doubt in each other's eyes.

Is the downward trend of government bonds slowing down?

They looked up at the crowd of people who were frantically selling.

These people are still selling, and the crazy momentum of selling has increased...

In this case...

Then who is taking over the government bonds they are selling?

The old foxes subconsciously looked at the seat belonging to Rothschild not far away. Lionel Rothschild was still sitting there as if he knew nothing. His expression was serious and looked no different from before.

But those who were interested found that his pockets were bulging more than before, and a white envelope was looming there.

Rothschild got the news!

A bolt from the blue!

After a brief shock, the old men's eyes rolled involuntarily. They did not communicate directly, fearing that the news would be leaked, but raised their eyebrows slightly, as if they were looking for each other to confirm.

Many of these old brokers were from the same era as Lionel's father, Nathan Rothschild, so they certainly remembered how Nathan, the damn Jewish upstart, became famous in the financial city.

The Battle of Waterloo, which broke out on June 18, 1815, was not only a victory for the Duke of Wellington, but also a victory for Nathan Rothschild.

When the anti-French coalition commanded by the Duke of Wellington defeated the restored Napoleon Bonaparte, a war courier arrived in Foxton, England in the early morning of June 19 and reported the crucial battle results to Nathan Rothschild, who had been waiting there for three days.

After Nathan learned that the British army had won, he did not make the news public immediately. Instead, he chose to secretly rush to the London Stock Exchange when the market was still unclear and the society generally expected that Britain might lose the war.

In the exchange, Nathan deliberately created an illusion. He instructed Rothschild's stockbrokers to sell British government bonds, as if Britain had lost the Battle of Waterloo. This led to a panic selling of British bonds in the market, causing bond prices to fall sharply. Nathan picked up cheap chips in this panic selling of government bonds.

After the Battle of Waterloo, the Rothschild family led by Nathan instantly jumped to become one of the largest private holders of British government bonds, which could be ranked alongside the Baring family. With this identity, they also naturally attended and became one of the 21 original shareholders of the Bank of England.

From that day on, no one in the financial city dared to call Nathan a Jewish upstart with no artistic taste in front of him, even though the old man liked to show off his wealth by shaking his trouser pockets full of gold coins to strangers, which was really annoying.

The old brokers quickly reached a consensus in the eye contact.

He is worthy of being Nathan's son, and his methods are exactly the same as his rude father.

These damn Jews, do they think we are easy to cheat?

The old brokers were speechless for a while. They neither stood up and left the table, nor immediately waved checks to join the ranks of scrambling for chips. Instead, they calmly called their apprentices and whispered a few words to them.

The apprentices all froze, and showed a puzzled expression to their boss.

But their curiosity was quickly suppressed by the stern eyes of the old men.

The apprentices understood the meaning of the boss's eyes: if you have any questions, ask them when you go back. As for now, just shut up and pick up chips secretly. Rothschild picked up this chip, so why can't we pick it up?

In such a strange atmosphere, more than 20 apprentices quickly merged into the restless crowd.

According to the boss's instructions, they quietly bought the British government bonds that had been beaten to the center of the earth.

However, even though they only bought three to five hundred pounds at a time, with a large number of people, the conspiracy of these old foxes was soon reflected on the bulletin board.

81.4 points, 81.3 points, 81.2 points, 81.2 points, 81.2 points...

Someone in the stock exchange has already discovered something is wrong.

A group of people gathered around the bulletin board, studying it for a long time without knowing what was going on. Suddenly, someone glanced at the dozen or so senior brokers in the lounge area who were chatting and laughing.

Someone whispered, "Fuck, those old guys are scrambling for shares, and all the apprentices around them are gone."

This sentence instantly made the brokers near the bulletin board explode.

"Where did they get the news?"

"Wait! Are there a few less stockbrokers around Rothschild?"

"Did Rothschild receive the letter?"

Suddenly, someone seemed to have figured out the key points. He slapped his thigh and said with regret: "Damn it! You idiots, we have all been deceived! Lionel Rothschild, this Jewish bastard was just acting! The appearance of the police officer here means that the situation has stabilized, but he pretended to be as if things were still uncertain and all this was his plan!"

The others around him seemed to be awakened by his words. They suddenly remembered the classic case of Rothschild that the old broker who led them told them before: "This... Damn it, he is re-enacting the Battle of Waterloo!"

"Let's go, while others haven't reacted yet, we can still recover some losses if we kill back now."

Some people were eager to return to the battlefield, but those who were smarter than them had sneaked back while they were chatting.

The sharp sound of chalk scratching rang out again on the bulletin board.

Swish!

81.2 points were crossed out, and the new price of British government bonds is now 81.8 points.

81.8 points, 82.3 points, 82.7 points, 83.2 points...

In just a few minutes, British government bonds have come out of the cliff-like downward trend, and not only that, it has even entered a crazy rising stage.

The smoke in the sky that just frightened the stockbrokers now seems to be insignificant, even though the color of the smoke looks a little thicker than before.

The confidence of the market is being rebuilt, and the speed of its reconstruction is as fast as its collapse.

At this moment, Lionel, who was sitting on the bench, finally moved. He stood up with his cane, took off his hat and shook it gently, and his iconic smile returned to his face.

"Rothschild Bank is willing to buy British government bonds with a face value of 200,000 pounds at 85.5 points."

The voice was not particularly loud, but it was enough to make the entire London Stock Exchange silent.

As soon as he finished speaking, there was a sound of galloping horses outside the stock exchange.

A man in a cloak and holding a pipe got off his horse and threw the reins and whip into the hands of his servant. There were many raindrops and mud on his body, and even the top hat on his head was tilted.

He stepped into the door of the stock exchange in riding boots and small steps, and everyone involuntarily made way for him.

However, before he came to the trading window, the gentleman suddenly stopped, took off his hat and nodded slightly to Arthur.

Arthur also took off his hat and smiled in return: "Good afternoon, Mr. Baring."

Alexander Baring did not say much, but raised his hand with a pipe and said: "Baring Bank is willing to buy British government bonds with a face value of 350,000 pounds at a price of 88 points."

In one sentence, the stock exchange fell into madness in an instant, and the crowd was like a pot of boiling water.

Baring Bank and Rothschild Bank have both expressed their opinions. What does this mean?

That fictitious crisis has passed, and British government bonds are still the most creditworthy and valuable bonds in the world.

"Lloyds Bank is willing to buy British government bonds with a face value of 150,000 pounds at a price of 88.3 points."

"Bank of Scotland is willing to buy British government bonds with a face value of 120,000 pounds at a price of 88.4 points."

"Brand & Carr is willing to buy British government bonds with a face value of 120,000 pounds at a price of 88.5 points..."

"Holmes & Stephenson..."

The stockbrokers who were desperate enough to jump off the building just now have begun to regret their behavior of selling government bonds just now.

As for those who are more calm, they know that they have no time to regret at this time. The price of government bonds has returned to normal at this time, but the prices of many stocks have not returned. If you buy them at this time, you can not only make up for the previous losses, but also make a lot of profits.

Arthur walked to the door of the exchange and looked back at the stockbrokers who had fallen into another dimension of madness. Heaven to hell is often only a moment away. Everyone thinks that the crisis is over, but he doesn't think so, and all sober people don't think so.

Because he could clearly see the road outside the stock exchange, the mottled cobblestone road, the patter of raindrops, the cold and fresh air brushed across his face, constantly reminding him that the rainstorm that swept across London had not stopped.

Behind him, footsteps came, it was Lionel Rothschild.

He stood beside Arthur, lit his pipe and said nothing, but Arthur saw that the white gloves he was holding the pipe in were already soaked with sweat on the palms of the gloves.

Arthur smiled at him, took a sip and said: "Lionel, you know these stockbrokers very well, and you also know how to boost their confidence. And, I have to say, your Very brave. I thought you would definitely reject me, but I didn’t expect you actually agreed to it.”

Lionel's voice sounded a little hoarse: "I'm gambling. Everyone thought that my father made a lot of money in the Battle of Waterloo because of his strategizing, but they didn't know that in fact, long before the two sides started fighting, our hands He accumulated a lot of British public debt. My father almost put his wealth and life on the Duke of Wellington, and that was how Rothschild became in the UK. Arthur, what I did today, and what I did. Father is exactly the same, I hope you really didn’t lie to me, otherwise..."

He turned to point at the crowd of people in the exchange who were frantically scrambling for funds, and said, "Did you see that? If London can't hold it back, they will soon start a new round of selling. In the stock exchange, confidence comes and goes quickly. Come on, there's no logic to most things."

Arthur looked down at Lionel's pocket: "Is this a letter from your father?"

Lionel nodded and shook his head again. He took out the letter, opened the envelope and gave Arthur a look. There was nothing inside.

Just when Arthur wanted to chat with Lionel a few more words, Arthur felt someone put his shoulder on his shoulder. It was Alexander Balin who had just arrived here.

Mr. Baring lowered his head and whispered beside Arthur: "Officer Hastings, new orders from the Duke of Wellington. He requires all currently mobile armed forces to assemble towards the Tower of London."

Arthur was stunned: "Why is this?"

Balin took a deep breath: "Because we received news that the attack on the Woolwich Arsenal in Greenwich was just a cover-up. The attack on the Royal Armory in the Tower of London was real. Those damn traitors , has been planning to capture it from the very beginning!”