CHAPTER XLVIII.
MR. MAULE'S ATTEMPT.
About three o'clock in the day the first tidings of what had takenplace reached Madame Goesler in the following perturbed note from herfriend the Duchess:--"Have you heard what took place last night? GoodGod! Mr. Bonteen was murdered as he came home from his club, and theysay that it was done by Phineas Finn. Plantagenet has just come infrom Downing Street, where everybody is talking about it. I can't getfrom him what he believes. One never can get anything from him. ButI never will believe it;--nor will you, I'm sure. I vote we stick tohim to the last. He is to be put in prison and tried. I can hardlybelieve that Mr. Bonteen has been murdered, though I don't know whyhe shouldn't as well as anybody else. Plantagenet talks about thegreat loss; I know which would be the greatest loss, and so do you.I'm going out now to try and find out something. Barrington Erle wasthere, and if I can find him he will tell me. I shall be home byhalf-past five. Do come, there's a dear woman; there is no one elseI can talk to about it. If I'm not back, go in all the same, and tellthem to bring you tea.
"Only think of Lady Laura,--with one mad and the other in Newgate!G. P."
This letter gave Madame Goesler such a blow that for a few minutesit altogether knocked her down. After reading it once she hardlyknew what it contained beyond a statement that Phineas Finn was inNewgate. She sat for a while with it in her hands, almost swooning;and then with an effort she recovered herself, and read the letteragain. Mr. Bonteen murdered, and Phineas Finn,--who had dined withher only yesterday evening, with whom she had been talking of all thesins of the murdered man, who was her special friend, of whom shethought more than of any other human being, of whom she could notbring herself to cease to think,--accused of the murder! Believeit! The Duchess had declared with that sort of enthusiasm which wascommon to her, that she never would believe it. No, indeed! Whatjudge of character would any one be who could believe that PhineasFinn could be guilty of a midnight murder? "I vote we stick to him.""Stick to him!" Madame Goesler said, repeating the words to herself."What is the use of sticking to a man who does not want you?" Howcan a woman cling to a man who, having said that he did not want her,yet comes again within her influence, but does not unsay what he hadsaid before? Nevertheless, if it should be that the man was in realdistress,--in absolutely dire sorrow,--she would cling to him with aconstancy which, as she thought, her friend the Duchess would hardlyunderstand. Though they should hang him, she would bathe his bodywith her tears, and live as a woman should live who had loved amurderer to the last.
"What is the use of sticking to a man whodoes not want you?"]
But she swore to herself that she would not believe it. Nay, she didnot believe it. Believe it, indeed! It was simply impossible. That hemight have killed the wretch in some struggle brought on by the man'sown fault was possible. Had the man attacked Phineas Finn it was onlytoo probable that there might have been such result. But murder,secret midnight murder, could not have been committed by the manshe had chosen as her friend. And yet, through it all, there was aresolve that even though he should have committed murder she wouldbe true to him. If it should come to the very worst, then would shedeclare the intensity of the affection with which she regarded themurderer. As to Mr. Bonteen, what the Duchess said was true enough;why should not he be killed as well as another? In her present frameof mind she felt very little pity for Mr. Bonteen. After a fashion averdict of "served him right" crossed her mind, as it had doubtlesscrossed that of the Duchess when she was writing her letter. The manhad made himself so obnoxious that it was well that he should be outof the way. But not on that account would she believe that PhineasFinn had murdered him.
Could it be true that the man after all was dead? Marvellous reports,and reports marvellously false, do spread themselves about the worldevery day. But this report had come from the Duke, and he was nota man given to absurd rumours. He had heard the story in DowningStreet, and if so it must be true. Of course she would go down to theDuchess at the hour fixed. It was now a little after three, and sheordered the carriage to be ready for her at a quarter past five. Thenshe told the servant, at first to admit no one who might call, andthen to come up and let her know, if any one should come, withoutsending the visitor away. It might be that some one would come to herexpressly from Phineas, or at least with tidings about this affair.
Then she read the letter again, and those few last words in it stuckto her thoughts like a burr. "Think of Lady Laura, with one mad andthe other in Newgate." Was this man,--the only man whom she had everloved,--more to Lady Laura Kennedy than to her; or rather, was LadyLaura more to him than was she herself? If so, why should she fretherself for his sake? She was ready enough to own that she couldsacrifice everything for him, even though he should be standing as amurderer in the dock, if such sacrifice would be valued by him. Hehad himself told her that his feelings towards Lady Laura were simplythose of an affectionate friend; but how could she believe thatstatement when all the world were saying the reverse? Lady Laura wasa married woman,--a woman whose husband was still living,--and ofcourse he was bound to make such an assertion when he and she werenamed together. And then it was certain,--Madame Goesler believed itto be certain,--that there had been a time in which Phineas had askedfor the love of Lady Laura Standish. But he had never asked for herlove. It had been tendered to him, and he had rejected it! And nowthe Duchess,--who, with all her inaccuracies, had that sharpness ofvision which enables some men and women to see into facts,--spoke asthough Lady Laura were to be pitied more than all others, because ofthe evil that had befallen Phineas Finn! Had not Lady Laura chosenher own husband; and was not the man, let him be ever so mad, stillher husband? Madame Goesler was sore of heart, as well as broken downwith sorrow, till at last, hiding her face on the pillow of the sofa,still holding the Duchess's letter in her hand, she burst into a fitof hysteric sobs.
Few of those who knew Madame Max Goesler well, as she lived in townand in country, would have believed that such could have been theeffect upon her of the news which she had heard. Credit was given toher everywhere for good nature, discretion, affability, and a certaingrace of demeanour which always made her charming. She was known tobe generous, wise, and of high spirit. Something of her conduct tothe old Duke had crept into general notice, and had been told, hereand there, to her honour. She had conquered the good opinion of many,and was a popular woman. But there was not one among her friendswho supposed her capable of becoming a victim to a strong passion,or would have suspected her of reckless weeping for any sorrow.The Duchess, who thought that she knew Madame Goesler well, wouldnot have believed it to be true, even if she had seen it. "You likepeople, but I don't think you ever love any one," the Duchess hadonce said to her. Madame Goesler had smiled, and had seemed toassent. To enjoy the world,--and to know that the best enjoyment mustcome from witnessing the satisfaction of others, had apparently beenher philosophy. But now she was prostrate because this man was introuble, and because she had been told that his trouble was more thananother woman could bear!
She was still sobbing and crushing the letter in her hand when theservant came up to tell her that Mr. Maule had called. He was below,waiting to know whether she would see him. She remembered at oncethat Mr. Maule had met Phineas at her table on the previous evening,and, thinking that he must have come with tidings respecting thisgreat event, desired that he might be shown up to her. But, as ithappened, Mr. Maule had not yet heard of the death of Mr. Bonteen. Hehad remained at home till nearly four, having a great object in view,which made him deem it expedient that he should go direct from hisown rooms to Madame Goesler's house, and had not even looked in athis club. The reader will, perhaps, divine the great object. On thisday he proposed to ask Madame Goesler to make him the happiest ofmen,--as he certainly would have thought himself for a time, hadshe consented to put him in possession of her large income. He hadtherefore padded himself with more than ordinary care,--reduced butnot obliterated the greyness of his locks,--looked carefully to thefitting of his trousers,
and spared himself those ordinary labours ofthe morning which might have robbed him of any remaining spark of hisjuvenility.
Madame Goesler met him more than half across the room as he enteredit. "What have you heard?" said she. Mr. Maule wore his sweetestsmile, but he had heard nothing. He could only press her hand, andlook blank,--understanding that there was something which he ought tohave heard. She thought nothing of the pressure of her hand. Apt asshe was to be conscious at an instant of all that was going on aroundher, she thought of nothing now but that man's peril, and of thetruth or falsehood of the story that had been sent to her. "You haveheard nothing of Mr. Finn?"
"Not a word," said Mr. Maule, withdrawing his hand. "What hashappened to Mr. Finn?" Had Mr. Finn broken his neck it would havebeen nothing to Mr. Maule. But the lady's solicitude was something tohim.
"Mr. Bonteen has been--murdered!"
"Mr. Bonteen!"
"So I hear. I thought you had come to tell me of it."
"Mr. Bonteen murdered! No;--I have heard nothing. I do not know thegentleman. I thought you said--Mr. Finn."
"It is not known about London, then?"
"I cannot say, Madame Goesler. I have just come from home, and havenot been out all the morning. Who has--murdered him?"
"Ah! I do not know. That is what I wanted you to tell me."
"But what of Mr. Finn?"
"I also have not been out, Mr. Maule, and can give you noinformation. I thought you had called because you knew that Mr. Finnhad dined here."
"Has Mr. Finn been murdered?"
"Mr. Bonteen! I said that the report was that Mr. Bonteen had beenmurdered." Madame Goesler was now waxing angry,--most unreasonably."But I know nothing about it, and am just going out to make inquiry.The carriage is ordered." Then she stood, expecting him to go; andhe knew that he was expected to go. It was at any rate clear to himthat he could not carry out his great design on the present occasion."This has so upset me that I can think of nothing else at present,and you must, if you please, excuse me. I would not have let you takethe trouble of coming up, had not I thought that you were the bearerof some news." Then she bowed, and Mr. Maule bowed; and as he leftthe room she forgot to ring the bell.
"What the deuce can she have meant about that fellow Finn?" he saidto himself. "They cannot both have been murdered." He went to hisclub, and there he soon learned the truth. The information was givento him with clear and undoubting words. Phineas Finn and Mr. Bonteenhad quarrelled at The Universe. Mr. Bonteen, as far as words went,had got the best of his adversary. This had taken place in thepresence of the Prince, who had expressed himself as greatly annoyedby Mr. Finn's conduct. And afterwards Phineas Finn had waylaid Mr.Bonteen in the passage between Bolton Row and Berkeley Street, andhad there--murdered him. As it happened, no one who had been at TheUniverse was at that moment present; but the whole affair was nowquite well known, and was spoken of without a doubt.
"I hope he'll be hung, with all my heart," said Mr. Maule, whothought that he could read the riddle which had been sounintelligible in Park Lane.
When Madame Goesler reached Carlton Terrace, which she did before thetime named by the Duchess, her friend had not yet returned. But shewent upstairs, as she had been desired, and they brought her tea. Butthe teapot remained untouched till past six o'clock, and then theDuchess returned. "Oh, my dear, I am so sorry for being late. Whyhaven't you had tea?"
"What is the truth of it all?" said Madame Goesler, standing up withher fists clenched as they hung by her side.
"I don't seem to know nearly as much as I did when I wrote to you."
"Has the man been--murdered?"
"Oh dear, yes. There's no doubt about that. I was quite sure of thatwhen I sent the letter. I have had such a hunt. But at last I went upto the door of the House of Commons, and got Barrington Erle to comeout to me."
"Well?"
"Two men have been arrested."
"Not Phineas Finn?"
"Yes; Mr. Finn is one of them. Is it not awful? So much more dreadfulto me than the other poor man's death! One oughtn't to say so, ofcourse."
"And who is the other man? Of course he did it."
"That horrid Jew preaching man that married Lizzie Eustace. Mr.Bonteen had been persecuting him, and making out that he had anotherwife at home in Hungary, or Bohemia, or somewhere."
"Of course he did it."
"That's what I say. Of course the Jew did it. But then all theevidence goes to show that he didn't do it. He was in bed at thetime; and the door of the house was locked up so that he couldn't getout; and the man who did the murder hadn't got on his coat, but hadgot on Phineas Finn's coat."
"Was there--blood?" asked Madame Goesler, shaking from head to foot.
"Not that I know. I don't suppose they've looked yet. But Lord Fawnsaw the man, and swears to the coat."
"Lord Fawn! How I have always hated that man! I wouldn't believe aword he would say."
"Barrington doesn't think so much of the coat. But Phineas had a clubin his pocket, and the man was killed by a club. There hasn't beenany other club found, but Phineas Finn took his home with him."
"A murderer would not have done that."
"Barrington says that the head policeman says that it is just what avery clever murderer would do."
"Do you believe it, Duchess?"
"Certainly not;--not though Lord Fawn swore that he had seen it. Inever will believe what I don't like to believe, and nothing shallever make me."
"He couldn't have done it."
"Well;--for the matter of that, I suppose he could."
"No, Duchess, he could not have done it."
"He is strong enough,--and brave enough."
"But not enough of a coward. There is nothing cowardly about him.If Phineas Finn could have struck an enemy with a club, in a darkpassage, behind his back, I will never care to speak to any managain. Nothing shall make me believe it. If I did, I could neveragain believe in any one. If they told you that your husband hadmurdered a man, what would you say?"
"But he isn't your husband, Madame Max."
"No;--certainly not. I cannot fly at them, when they say so, as youwould do. But I can be just as sure. If twenty Lord Fawns swore thatthey had seen it, I would not believe them. Oh, God, what will theydo with him!"
The Duchess behaved very well to her friend, saying not a single wordto twit her with the love which she betrayed. She seemed to takeit as a matter of course that Madame Goesler's interest in PhineasFinn should be as it was. The Duke, she said, could not come hometo dinner, and Madame Goesler should stay with her. Both Houseswere in such a ferment about the murder, that nobody liked to beaway. Everybody had been struck with amazement, not simply,--notchiefly,--by the fact of the murder, but by the double destruction ofthe two men whose ill-will to each other had been of late so oftenthe subject of conversation. So Madame Goesler remained at CarltonTerrace till late in the evening, and during the whole visit therewas nothing mentioned but the murder of Mr. Bonteen and the peril ofPhineas Finn. "Some one will go and see him, I suppose," said MadameGoesler.
"Lord Cantrip has been already,--and Mr. Monk."
"Could not I go?"
"Well, it would be rather strong."
"If we both went together?" suggested Madame Goesler. And before sheleft Carlton Terrace she had almost extracted a promise from theDuchess that they would together proceed to the prison and endeavourto see Phineas Finn.