This speculation, like wildfire, instantly ignited the nerves of the entire London press.
All the reporters, whether from serious broadsheets or street tabloids, frantically flocked to the offices of Good Words Magazine.
And to the temporary residence in Kensington that Norman McLeod had provided for Lionel.
They were eager to confirm whether "James Bond," the author of "The Happy Prince," was indeed the same "James Bond" who ghostwrote letters at the "Curved Pickaxe" bar.
The oak doors of Good Words Magazine were tightly shut, and despite the reporters' knocking and shouting, there was no movement inside.
But this only further fueled the enthusiasm of the reporters and curious onlookers who had arrived upon hearing the news, and the crowd at the magazine's entrance grew larger and larger, almost blocking traffic.
Just as the crowd became restless and was on the verge of losing control, the tightly shut doors creaked open.
Norman McLeod's corpulent figure appeared first, a strange expression of helplessness mixed with triumph on his face.
Following closely behind was Lionel Sorel.
His face still wore its usual calm, as if the dense crowd at the entrance and the countless pairs of eyes fixed on him had nothing to do with him.
The two stood on the stone steps in front of the magazine office, looking down from above.
The noisy crowd instantly fell silent, all eyes focused on them.
Norman McLeod raised his hands and pressed them down, signaling for quiet—even though it was already quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
Norman McLeod's voice was loud and clear:
"Gentlemen! Ladies! I know why you've come! Yes, you've guessed correctly!"
He turned sideways, pointed to Lionel beside him, and raised his voice:
"Mr. Lionel Sorel is precisely the 'James Bond' who published 'The Happy Prince' in Good Words Magazine not long ago!
At the same time, he is also the kind person you have read about in the newspapers recently, who enthusiastically helped the poor by ghostwriting letters at the 'Curved Pickaxe' bar in the East End!"
Although they had already guessed, when the news was officially confirmed, a huge uproar still erupted in the crowd.
Gasps, exclamations, and incredulous whispers filled the air.
Lionel took a small step forward, his gaze calmly sweeping over the faces below:
"A name is just a designation. I am grateful for the peace London has given me, and I am thankful to the ordinary people who are willing to confide in me. They have shown me the most authentic and resilient side of this world."
He said no more.
After these few sentences, he nodded slightly, turned, and returned inside the building, leaving the scene to Norman McLeod.
Norman answered a few more inconsequential questions before retreating back inside the magazine's doors, once again isolating the clamor.
——————
This news should have been explosive as well;
However, in stark contrast, this time, the vast majority of London media fell into a strange "silence."
Except for tabloids like The Star, which made it their business to track celebrity gossip, reporting the press conference in detail and hyping it up—
The Times, The Daily Telegraph, and The Morning Post all reported the news with short, objective tones.
They rarely added any comments, neither praise nor criticism.
This collective silence stemmed from an unprecedented awkwardness and an intractable contradiction.
If the author of "The Happy Prince" were British, it could easily be interpreted as a native citizen's reflection and advice on social phenomena.
It could even be called "an expression of patriotism"—daring to expose shortcomings in the hope of national improvement.
But as it happened, Lionel Sorel was French.
In this way, the nature of "The Happy Prince" instantly underwent a fundamental change.
It became a Frenchman's criticism and ridicule of the current social situation in Britain.
The city in the story, with its stark wealth disparity, bureaucratic hypocrisy, and struggling populace in misery, was an allusion to London and even the entire British Empire.
How could an exile, who had just been praised by the British media for "choosing a more civilized country," presumptuously criticize the great Empire?
Normally, such an act should have been met with a fierce counterattack from the London press, united in defending the "glory of the Empire" from defilement.
However, just a few days prior, these newspapers had been tirelessly using Lionel as an example to mock France's "lack of freedom" and "narrow-mindedness."
They had heralded Britain as a beacon of freedom and civil progress, and the persecuted Lionel as a French intellectual who admired British values.
If they were to turn their guns on him now, it would be tantamount to admitting that British "freedom" also had limits and could not tolerate any external criticism.
What an embarrassing situation that would be!
Thus, the London media found themselves in a dilemma.
They could not endorse Lionel's criticism of Britain in "The Happy Prince," as that would question the legitimacy of their own rule.
But they certainly could not openly criticize a "symbol of freedom" whom they had just championed, like the French authorities.
The only way out seemed to be to remain silent, pretend it hadn't happened, and let time diffuse the awkwardness.
However, the media's silence could not conceal the undercurrents in high society.
——————
At White's Club on St. James's Street, a perennial gathering place for conservative elites, they debated the matter fiercely.
A banker waved his cigar, fuming:
"This is naked ingratitude! We took him in, gave him refuge!
Is this how he repays us, with such insidious stories?!"
A retired colonial official echoed:
"I've said it before, these continental intellectuals, especially the French, are inherently hostile to the Empire!"
Of course, there were dissenting opinions.
A relatively open-minded scholar retorted:
"But what he says is true, isn't it? Can we deny the conditions in the East End?
The problem is, why does it take a Frenchman to remind us of this?"
Soon his remarks were drowned out by roaring voices:
"This is not a matter of truth or falsehood, it's a matter of decency and national dignity!
We cannot allow a foreigner, especially a Frenchman, to lecture us! This will bring shame upon the entire Empire!"
——————
Inside Windsor Castle, Queen Victoria looked at the brief news presented by her attendant, her serious face clouded with frost.
She recalled her displeasure upon reading "The Happy Prince" not long ago, and Prince George's eyes filled with confusion and sadness.
At that time, she could still dismiss the story as the morbid moaning of some ill-informed national writer, easily attributing it to the author's lack of understanding.
But now, the author's identity was clear—a Frenchman, a Frenchman who had written the "Sherlock Holmes Mysteries" that she admired!
This made her furious, feeling deceived, even betrayed!
This French writer, taking advantage of Britain's and her own tolerance, brazenly used words to offend her dignity!
She forcefully tossed the newspaper aside and said coldly to her lady-in-waiting:
"Call Henry!"
——————
Just as London's public opinion fell into collective embarrassment and silence, the French newspapers across the Channel finally seized this excellent opportunity for a counterattack!
(End of Chapter)