Life of Being a Crown Prince in France Chapter 561

Chapter 561: Chapter 472: A Dream of Millet

Paul smiled and said, “Of course, as long as it's within my power, I will definitely serve you.”

He jokingly thought, 20,000 British Pounds–that's 500,000 Leva–such a large sum of money was enough to make him sell his soul.

“I want to ensure that the funds I donate are used for the great cause of Corsican independence, so I hope to know the specific use of the funds.”

Chalmers showed an apologetic expression, “Please forgive me, this is not at all a matter of mistrust toward you and your companions.”

He looked around and lowered his voice, “Actually, I funded the Irish Republicans quite a bit over the past few years, but those guys pocketed more than half of it!”

The so-called “Irish Republicans” referred to the organization for Irish independence. After England occupied Ireland, they had been resisting in the shadows, reaching a peak at the end of the 18th century. Historically, they even took advantage of the French Revolution to prepare for a joint declaration of war against England with France.

Paul and his three subordinates exchanged glances, and although they were somewhat reluctant, they nodded in agreement since the wealthy benefactor had made a request.

After the salon ended, Chalmers went directly back to Paul's house with him, to hear how the funds would be arranged.

“Half of your donation will be used to purchase weapons and organize public protests and riots,” Paul patiently explained. “The rest will mainly serve as campaign funds to help the Restoration Organization's deputies gain more seats in Congress.

“You know, Congress is the political heart of Corsica. If we can control Congress, we can marginalize the French Government. This is an important part of our independence plan.”

Chalmers nodded repeatedly, “You are indeed a great Freedom Fighter, with rich experience. I feel much more at ease now.”

He paused, then continued, “However, based on my experience in Ireland, inciting riots is far less effective than influencing the upper echelons of power. So, I think more money should be spent on supporting the deputies.”

The three members of the Restoration Organization present brightened at these words, for they were either Corsican deputies or preparing to compete in this year's election.

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With a significant amount of campaign funds, their chances of winning would increase exponentially.

Paul found this type of benefactor, who liked to meddle, quite troublesome but patiently explained to him why the funds had to be allocated in this manner.

Chalmers suddenly waved his hand impatiently, “You just mentioned that over twenty deputies in your organization would face competition, how could 9,000 Pounds be enough? Tell you what, listen to me and I'll contribute an extra 5,000 Pounds.”

Paul was stunned by the magnate's generosity on the spot. After weighing his options quickly, he agreed to the proposition–to allocate 17,000 British Pounds to the Restoration Organization's deputies to help them win the election.

Chalmers was very straightforward; the next afternoon, he solemnly handed over two weighty suitcases of banknotes to Paul, which were then witnessed and verified by the three high-ranking members of the Restoration Organization who accompanied him.

“Your fight for freedom will ultimately be successful!”

Chalmers took the receipt from Paul's hand and then bragged, “After my East India Company shares pay dividends next year, I will donate another 25,000 Pounds to you.”

After sending off the benefactor, Paul checked the time–it was already past 5 p.m., and the banks were closed. The banknotes would be easier to use for purchasing weapons in the United States, Nordic countries, and other places if they were converted to Gold Coins.

Thus, he had no choice but to lock the cash boxes in his study's safe and repeatedly reminded the butler to have someone guard the main gate well today and not let any mishap occur.

Night fell.

The maid in Lady Paul's bedroom got up stealthily, took a set of tools from a box under the bed, and then made her way in the dark toward the second-floor study.

Twice on her way, she encountered servants on night duty, but both glanced at her and turned their heads as if nothing was out of place.

Yes, they were all spies deployed by the French Intelligence Bureau.

After obtaining Paul's whereabouts from the British Government, the Intelligence Bureau had infiltrated his household over the last six months like a sieve. Now almost half of the servants in this villa were on the bureau's payroll. If it weren't for the fact that killing Paul would do more harm than good, he would already be dead many times over.

The maid entered Paul's study using a key that had already been copied, took out her tools, and started setting fires around the room…

At two o'clock in the morning, Paul was awakened by the maid's screams.

Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he faintly heard the servants shouting, “Fire!”

“Quick, put it out!”

Immediately after, the butler pounded on the door urgently, “Master, it's a fire! You and the lady must go out and take shelter!”

Paul sprang up from bed, threw on his clothes, and rushed out of the bedroom. He choked on the acrid smell and, looking up, saw the staircase to the second floor fill with thick smoke, with servants continuously running up and down carrying buckets of water.

The three high-ranking members of the Restoration Organization, who had been staying in the guest room, were also awakened and exchanged looks with Paul, simultaneously exclaiming, “The money!”

They immediately tried to rush toward the second floor, engulfed in flames, but the butler hurriedly had them firmly held back.

Two and a half hours later, with the combined efforts of the servants and the London Fire Police, the fire was finally extinguished.

Ignoring the significant amount of lingering smoke, Paul and others ran madly up to the second floor, only to stop dead in their tracks–the entire half of the second floor, including the study, was charred black.

Paul coughed as he stepped into the study and saw the burned-through safe–safes of this era were mostly made by wrapping iron in wood, and it wouldn't be until the 19th century that the familiar heavy metal safes would appear–along with a clump of charred material inside.

Someone by his side took the debris out of the safe. They could still vaguely make out the shape of burnt paper, and their face turned ashen, “Damn it, that was 25,000 Pounds…”

More than ten days later, at the secret meeting of the Corsican Revival Organization, Bartolomeo pounded the table furiously, “We had the chance to take over two-thirds of Congress! It's all because of that fire!”

He was one of the three who had watched 25,000 Pounds go up in flames.

The others in the room also wore gloomy expressions. They had learned that a Scottish tycoon had provided substantial funds to each of them, nearly 1,000 Pounds each, which equated to more than 20,000 Leva.

Now, because of an accident, all was lost.

Suddenly someone asked, “Mr. Bartolomeo, how did the fire start all of a sudden?”

“I'm not clear on that either. The fire police said it could have been rats.”

Everyone fell silent again.

Then, Giuseppe, one of the senior members of the organization, clapped his hands, “Let's all buck up. Mr. Paul has sent instructions to organize a riot in Cargese, and we now need to discuss this matter.”

Meanwhile, an American lawyer arrived in London, knocking on the door of Paul's home.

Chapter end

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