Fox of France

Mr. Wren was very angry about this, and the consequences were very serious. So this morning, just next to the recruitment site, when a group of workers were popularizing to others how humane and conscientious the new contract and new rules of the "Rennes Textile Factory" were, a group of factory guards held their hands. The big stick rushed out and swooped at the workers. Naturally, the workers couldn't be beaten in vain, so they resisted, and then...

The sharp siren sounded, and countless policemen suddenly appeared from various entrances in the street, as if they had emerged from the ground.

"Stop fighting, squat on the ground immediately, and don't move!" shouted the policemen, brandishing batons, shields, handcuffs and revolvers.

"It's the police, run!" some workers shouted.

The workers began to flee in all directions, but the police stopped them. The police in the front row blocked them with shields, and then beat them with batons.

"Squat down immediately! Put your head in your hands, this is the first warning!"

"Quick, squat down!" shouted a representative of the London Textile Workers' Mutual Aid. He knew that according to British law, when faced with such a group brawl, the police only need to issue such warnings three times before they can shoot!

"Second warning!" shouted the police.

"Squat, squat, they'll shoot!" shouted more delegates.

Many workers hesitated to squat down. But the thugs of the factory protection team with white towels tied to their arms didn't care about this. They continued to beat the workers with big sticks.

"Third warning! Shoot!"

The order to "shoot" was almost immediately followed by the "third warning", and there was almost no time for others to respond. A worker representative was shouting: "Quickly squat down..." Several bullets hit him. Blood immediately flowed from his body, mouth and eyes. The worker representative shook and fell to the ground. But he didn't die immediately, and he could barely support himself with his hands to barely support half of his body.

A factory guard with a big stick swaggered over and hit him twice on the head and body, and he died.

The workers were forced to squat on the ground, while the factory guards beat the workers with sticks at the gunpoint of the police. Once any worker dared to stand up and resist, the police who had issued three warnings would shoot him mercilessly... blood flowed all over the place.

"Blood all over the place, our brother's blood is all over the place!" Buck burst into tears. Ever since Buck watched his adoptive father, the previous boss Fagin, be hanged, Buck has never cried like this again.

"Don't cry, Buck. How are the others?" asked Fagin.

"First, the factory guard team beat them, and then the police arrested them and the factory guard team members. They didn't even go in for five minutes. Those factory guard team members came out, but our people were all locked up. It's gone—this world will not let us all live!"

"He won't let us live, so we will drag them to die together!" The butcher gritted his teeth.

"I heard that other textile factories are also planning to modify the contract and reduce wages." Oliver said.

"We want to spread the news and let all the textile workers in London go on strike together." Fagin said, "Besides, we can't let them be so complacent, we have to teach them a lesson!"

Early in the morning, Hindley got up from the bed and stretched himself. At this time, his wife had already made breakfast and was waiting for him. Hindley's salary is not bad, but the work is also very hard, and he also leaves early and returns late. The money earned every month, after paying the rent and other necessary expenses of the so-called middle class, the rest is actually very limited. But anyway, when I come back every day, I uncover the soup pot, and I can still see a lamb chop inside. Such a day is not bad.

After breakfast, Hindley kissed his wife and children, and went out.

It was still early at this time, and the air outside was very turbid, making Hindley cough uncontrollably. Hindley went to the stagecoach station, where he waited for the carriage.

Although Hindley felt that he was a decent person, it was impossible for a lowly decent person like him to have his own private carriage, and he could only wait for a public carriage at the station—of course, this was much better than the workers. Do those poor workers know what it looks like inside the carriage?

Thinking of this, Hindley felt a little complacent. He thinks that if he works hard, he can let his son go to a private school, and then he can find a higher-paying job in the future. Even in his grandson's generation, he will have the opportunity to rely on the accumulated money to become his own boss and become a real decent people...

"This is really great!" Thinking Hindley, he saw a public carriage approaching in the distance.

Hindley held the briefcase in his arms and looked at the other people who were also waiting at the station. These people are now his opponents, he must defeat these people and squeeze into this bus, otherwise he will have to wait for the next public carriage for half an hour, and he will definitely be late when he arrives at the factory. Even he will be deducted wages if he is late.

Of course, he can also go as a rented carriage, but a rented carriage is much more expensive than a public carriage, so if you can save some money, let's save some money.

The public carriage stopped, and everyone rushed up. Hindley held the briefcase in one hand, and grabbed the door handle with the other, trying to squeeze in. But at this moment, a hand appeared from nowhere, ripped off his briefcase and threw it far away.

At this moment, Hindley could only let go of his other hand, and hurried to pick up the briefcase. Some documents were spilled out, and he had to check carefully to see if they were missing...then...then the public carriage drove away.

"These people, really... really have no sense of public morality!" Hindley cursed in a low voice, and at the same time wanted to look around, expecting to see a passing cab.

As God wished, there happened to be a taxi that turned out from that side and came towards this side.

"Stop, stop!" Hindley waved and shouted at the carriage again.

The carriage slowed down, and the driver called to him, "Where are you going?"

"To the Wren mill!" cried Hindley. He knew that there was probably already a passenger in this car, but he could take another passenger. If it is on the way, the coachman will take him and earn a lot of money.

The carriage gradually slowed down and stopped in front of him.

"Come on!" the coachman said with a heavy Scottish accent.

"Okay, okay." Hindley replied as he hurried into the carriage.

He sat down in the carriage, closed the door, and the carriage started running again. Only then did Hindley have time to look at the situation inside the carriage, and there were two people sitting opposite him. The two were staring at him with wide eyes.

"Hi, I can meet you here..." Hindley just wanted to say hello when the two rushed over. Hindley opened his mouth to call for help, but a stinky rag was stuffed into his mouth. He wanted to resist, but the two men were stronger than him, and after a while, they tied him up like a giant with a rope. Zongzi is the same.

The carriage didn't stop all the way, and after running for a while, it stopped. Then the two of them pulled Hindley, who was tied up like a big rice dumpling—ah, considering the cultural background, it should be said that he was tied up like a mummy, out of the car, and slammed him on the ground. Hindley's chubby face hit the ground directly, and was painfully rubbed by the small stones on the ground.

Hindley wanted to struggle, but a foot stepped on his back, and he couldn't breathe. Then a hand grabbed his hair and pulled his face up. Hindley saw a mob of angry workers surrounding him.

Hindley knew that this place must be in a slum, and the police would never come to this kind of place. He fell into the hands of these people, and even if his throat was broken, no one would come to rescue him.

"Woooooo..." Hindley's Adam's apple kept twitching. He wanted to beg for mercy, but his mouth was blocked and he couldn't make a sound.

"Bastard! You are so majestic when you lead people to kill our people! Dog!"

While scolding, a man who looked like a worker kicked Hindley in the face, and half of Hindley's face immediately swelled up.

Another worker reached out and ripped the smelly rag from Hindley's mouth.

"Forgive me! Brothers, please forgive me! I can't help it, Mr. Wren asked me to order people to shoot! I can't help it too... Brothers, I have parents, a wife and children, I raise them by myself, I dare not not listen to Mr. Wren's words, brothers, please forgive me, I will change my mind in the future..."

"Fart! Who is your brother?!" a worker shouted.

"You helped Ryan, killed so many of us, your hands are stained with the blood of so many of our brothers, do you think you can survive by asking for a few words?" A worker grabbed Hindley's chest and pulled He raised it up, "Aren't you very majestic when you let the factory guards shoot? You should have died a long time ago!"

After saying this, he suddenly smelled a strange smell. He shrugged his nose, and then said with a contemptuous smile: "Brothers, this dead dog—he wet his pants, hahaha!"

"Kill him, kill him, kill him to avenge the brothers!" Everyone around shouted.

Someone moved a big rock over.

"You, what are you going to do?" Hindley asked in panic and panic.

Everyone ignored him and just tied the big rock to him.

"You... what are you going to do?" Hearing the sound of the Thames River next to him, Hindley already understood their plan in his heart, and finally couldn't help shouting, "Help! Help!"

"Scream, scream, if you scream, no one will save you. You capitalist lackey!" A worker put the stinky rag back into his mouth, then grabbed his neck and pulled him away. Drag it to the river.

"What will happen to your family after knowing you are dead?" Another worker whispered in his ear maliciously, "Your wife and son will be kicked out by the landlord because they can't pay the rent. Your son Because she couldn’t pay the tuition fees, she was kicked out of school. Then, in order to eat, your wife will work as a street girl. After two years at most, she will die of a dirty disease..."

Hindley struggled to his feet, but to no avail. Several people dragged him onto a boat.

"After your wife dies, your son will be old enough to work as a child laborer in a factory. He will enter the textile factory in Rennes and become a child laborer. After another five years at most, your family will be able to Reunited."

Hindley's eyes were wide open, the bloodshot eyes almost jumped out of the eye sockets, he struggled hard.

"Okay, don't waste your energy, it will be over in a while." A worker grabbed him and threw him off. Hindley fell into the Thames and sank, bubbling.