Marquis of Hastings's carriage steadily stopped in front of Lancaster Gate 36.
As he walked to the door, Whitridge, who had been notified a few minutes ago, was already waiting at the door. Due to a lack of staff, this coachman had to temporarily act as a personal butler.
Whitridge appeared a little nervous, but he still tried his best to mimic the tone of those professional butlers in novels, slightly bowing, "Your Excellency, Sir is waiting for you in the living room."
Marquis of Hastings nodded slightly, didn't pause much, just took off his gloves and walked straight into the house.
Arthur was sitting on the sofa, examining the document in his hand.
When he heard the doorbell ring, he subconsciously stood up; from these small movements, it was evident that, although this third-ranking figure of the Home Office appeared calm on the surface, the anxiety within him was completely on par with the dusty Marquis of Hastings.
