“And if he were convicted afterwards?”
“I’d buy up the Home Secretary. It’s very horrid to say so, of course, Mr. Low; and I dare say there is nothing wrong ever done in Chancery. But I know what Cabinet Ministers are. If they could get a majority by granting a pardon they’d do it quick enough.”
“You are speaking of a liberal Government, of course, Duchess.”
“There isn’t twopence to choose between them in that respect. Just at this moment I believe Mr. Finn is the most popular member of the House of Commons; and I’d bring all that to bear. You can’t but know that if everything of that kind is done it will have an effect. I believe you could make him so popular that the people would pull down the prison rather than have him hung;—so that a jury would not dare to say he was guilty.”
“Would that be justice, ladies?” asked the just man.
“It would be success, Mr. Low—which is a great deal the better thing of the two.”
“If Mr. Finn were found guilty, I could not in my heart believe that that would be justice,” said Madame Goesler.
Mr. Low did his best to make them understand that the plan of pulling down Newgate by the instrumentality of Phineas Finn’s popularity, or of buying up the Home Secretary by threats of Parliamentary defection, would hardly answer their purpose. He would, he assured them, suggest to the attorneys employed the idea of searching for evidence against the man Mealyus in his own country, and would certainly take care that nothing was omitted from want of means. “You had better let us put a cheque in your hands,” said the Duchess. But to this he would not assent. He did admit that it would be well to leave no stone unturned, and that the turning of such stones must cost money;—but the money, he said, would be forthcoming. “He’s not a rich man himself,” said the Duchess. Mr. Low assured her that if money were really wanting he would ask for it. “And now,” said the Duchess, “there is one other thing that we want. Can we see him?”
“You, yourself?”
“Yes;—I myself, and Madame Goesler. You look as if it would be very wicked.” Mr. Low thought that it would be wicked;—that the Duke would not like it; and that such a visit would occasion ill-natured remarks. “People do visit him, I suppose. He’s not locked up like a criminal.”
“I visit him,” said Mr. Low, “and one or two other friends have done so. Lord Chiltern has been with him, and Mr. Erle.”
“Has no lady seen him?” asked the Duchess.
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Then it’s time some lady should do so. I suppose we could be admitted. If we were his sisters they’d let us in.”
“You must excuse me, Duchess, but—”
“Of course I will excuse you. But what?”
“You are not his sisters.”
“If I were engaged to him, to be his wife?—” said Madame Goesler, standing up. “I am not so. There is nothing of that kind. You must not misunderstand me. But if I were?”
“On that plea I presume you could be admitted.”
“Why not as a friend? Lord Chiltern is admitted as his friend.”
“Because of the prudery of a prison,” said the Duchess. “All things are wrong to the lookers after wickedness, my dear. If it would comfort him to see us, why should he not have that comfort?”
“Would you have gone to him in his own lodgings?” asked Mr. Low.
“I would—if he’d been ill,” said Madame Goesler.
“Madam,” said Mr. Low, speaking with a gravity which for a moment had its effect even upon the Duchess of Omnium, “I think, at any rate, that if you visit Mr. Finn in prison, you should do so through the instrumentality of his Grace, your husband.”
“Of course you suspect me of all manner of evil.”
“I suspect nothing;—but I am sure that it should be so.”
“It shall be so,” said the Duchess. “Thank you, sir. We are much obliged to you for your wise counsel.”
“I am obliged to you,” said Madame Goesler, “because I know that you have his safety at heart.”
“And so am I,” said the Duchess, relenting, and giving him her hand. “We are really ever so much obliged to you. You don’t quite understand about the Duke; and how should you? I never do anything without telling him, but he hasn’t time to attend to things.”
“I hope I have not offended you.”
“Oh dear, no. You can’t offend me unless you mean it. Goodbye—and remember to have a great many lawyers, and all with new wigs; and let them all get in a great rage that anybody should suppose it possible that Mr. Finn is a murderer. I’m sure I am. Goodbye, Mr. Low.”
“You’ll never be able to get to him,” said the Duchess, as soon as they were alone.
“I suppose not.”
“And what good could you do? Of course I’d go with you if we could get in;—but what would be the use?”
“To let him know that people do not think him guilty.”
“Mr. Low will tell him that. I suppose, too, we can write to him. Would you mind writing?”
“I would rather go.”
“You might as well tell the truth when you are about it. You are breaking your heart for him.”
“If he were to be condemned, and—executed, I should break my heart. I could never appear bright before the world again.”
“That is just
