“Oh dear yes; not a doubt about it. Fawn can swear to him,” said Mr. Boffin.
Barrington Erle was telling his story for the tenth time when he was summoned out of the Library to the Duchess of Omnium, who had made her way up into the lobby. “Oh, Mr. Erle, do tell me what you really think,” said the Duchess.
“That is just what I can’t do.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know what to think.”
“He can’t have done it, Mr. Erle.”
“That’s just what I say to myself, Duchess.”
“But they do say that the evidence is so very strong against him.”
“Very strong.”
“I wish we could get that Lord Fawn out of the way.”
“Ah;—but we can’t.”
“And will they—hang him?”
“If they convict him, they will.”
“A man we all knew so well! And just when we had made up our minds to do everything for him. Do you know I’m not a bit surprised. I’ve felt before now as though I should like to have done it myself.”
“He could be very nasty, Duchess!”
“I did so hate that man. But I’d give—oh, I don’t know what I’d give to bring him to life again this minute. What will Lady Laura do?” In answer to this, Barrington Erle only shrugged his shoulders. Lady Laura was his cousin. “We mustn’t give him up, you know, Mr. Erle.”
“What can we do?”
“Surely we can do something. Can’t we get it in the papers that he must be innocent—so that everybody should be made to think so? And if we could get hold of the lawyers, and make them not want to—to destroy him! There’s nothing I wouldn’t do. There’s no getting hold of a judge, I know.”
“No, Duchess. The judges are stone.”
“Not that they are a bit better than anybody else—only they like to be safe.”
“They do like to be safe.”
“I’m sure we could do it if we put our shoulders to the wheel. I don’t believe, you know, for a moment that he murdered him. It was done by Lizzie Eustace’s Jew.”
“It will be sifted, of course.”
“But what’s the use of sifting if Mr. Finn is to be hung while it’s being done? I don’t think anything of the police. Do you remember how they bungled about that woman’s necklace? I don’t mean to give him up, Mr. Erle; and I expect you to help me.” Then the Duchess returned home, and, as we know, found Madame Goesler at her house.
Nothing whatever was done that night, either in the Lords or Commons. A “statement” about Mr. Bonteen was made in the Upper as well as in the Lower House, and after that statement any real work was out of the question. Had Mr. Bonteen absolutely been Chancellor of the Exchequer, and in the Cabinet when he was murdered, and had Phineas Finn been once more an Undersecretary of State, the commotion and excitement could hardly have been greater. Even the Duke of St. Bungay had visited the spot—well known to him, as there the urban domains meet of two great Whig peers, with whom and whose predecessors he had long been familiar. He also had known Phineas Finn, and not long since had said civil words to him and of him. He, too, had, of late days, especially disliked Mr. Bonteen, and had almost insisted that the man now murdered should not be admitted into the Cabinet. He had heard what was the nature of the evidence;—had heard of the quarrel, the life-preserver, and the grey coat. “I suppose he must have done it,” said the Duke of St. Bungay to himself as he walked away up Hay Hill.
LI
“You Think It Shameful”
The tidings of what had taken place first reached Lady Laura Kennedy from her brother on his return to Portman Square after the scene in the police court. The object of his visit to Finn’s lodgings has been explained, but the nature of Lady Laura’s vehemence in urging upon her brother the performance of a very disagreeable task has not been sufficiently described. No brother would willingly go on such a mission from a married sister to a man who had been publicly named as that sister’s lover;—and no brother could be less likely to do so than Lord Chiltern. But Lady Laura had been very stout in her arguments, and very strong-willed in her purpose. The income arising from this money—which had been absolutely her own—would again be exclusively her own should the claim to it on behalf of her husband’s estate be abandoned. Surely she might do what she liked with her own. If her brother would not assist her in making this arrangement, it must be done by other means. She was quite willing that it should appear to come to Mr. Finn from her father and not from herself. Did her brother think any ill of her? Did he believe in the calumnies of the newspapers? Did he or his wife for a moment conceive that she had a lover? When he looked at her, worn out, withered, an old woman before her time, was it possible that he should so believe? She herself asked him these questions. Lord Chiltern of course declared that he had no suspicion of the kind. “No;—indeed,” said Lady Laura. “I defy anyone to suspect me who knows me. And if so, why am not I as much entitled to help a friend as you might be? You need not even mention my name.” He endeavoured to make her understand that her name would be mentioned, and others would believe and would say evil things. “They cannot say worse than they have said,” she continued. “And yet what harm have they done to me—or you?” Then he demanded why she desired to go so far out of her way with the view of spending her money upon one who was in no way connected with her. “Because I like him better than anyone else,” she answered, boldly.
