Phineas Finn, when he had been thrice remanded before the Bow Street magistrate, and four times examined, was at last committed to be tried for the murder of Mr Bonteen. This took place on Wednesday, 19th May, a fortnight after the murder. But during those fourteen days little was learned, or even surmised, by the police, in addition to the circumstances which had transpired at once. Indeed the delay, slight as it was, had arisen from a desire to find evidence that might affect Mr Emilius, rather than with a view to strengthen that which did affect Phineas Finn. But no circumstance could be found tending in anyway to add to the suspicion to which the converted Jew was made subject by his own character, and by the supposition that he would have been glad to get rid of Mr Bonteen. He did not even attempt to run away — for which attempt certain pseudo-facilities were put in his way by police ingenuity. But Mr Emilius stood his ground and courted inquiry. Mr Bonteen had been to him, he said, a very bitter, unjust, and cruel enemy. Mr Bonteen had endeavoured to rob him of his dearest wife — had charged him with bigamy — had got up false evidence in the hope of ruining him. He had undoubtedly hated Mr Bonteen, and might probably have said so. But, as it happened, through God’s mercy, he was enabled to prove that he could not possibly have been at the scene of the murder when the murder was committed. During that hour of the night he had been in his own bed; and, had he been out, could not have re-entered the house without calling up the inmates. But, independently of his alibi, Mealyus was able to rely on the absolute absence of any evidence against him. No grey coat could be traced to his hands, even for an hour. His height was very much less than that attributed by Lord Fawn to the man whom he had seen hurrying to the spot. No weapon was found in his possession by which the deed could have been done. Inquiry was made as to the purchase of life-preservers, and the reverend gentleman was taken to half a dozen shops at which such instruments had lately been sold. But there had been a run upon life preservers, in consequence of recommendations as to their use given by certain newspapers — and it was found as impossible to trace one particular purchase as it would be that of a loaf of bread. At none of the half-dozen shops to which he was taken was Mr Emilius remembered; and then all further inquiry in that direction was abandoned, and Mr Emilius was set at liberty. “I forgive my persecutors from the bottom of my heart,” he said — “but God will requite it to them.”
In the meantime Phineas was taken to Newgate, and was there confined, almost with the glory and attendance of a State prisoner. This was no common murder, and no common murderer. Nor were they who interested themselves in the matter the ordinary rag, tag, and bobtail of the people — the mere wives and children, or perhaps fathers and mothers, or brothers and sisters of the slayer or the slain. Dukes and Earls, Duchesses and Countesses, Members of the Cabinet, great statesmen, Judges, Bishops, and Queen’s Counsellors, beautiful women, and women of highest fashion, seemed for a while to think of but little else than the fate of Mr Bonteen and the fate of Phineas Finn. People became intimately acquainted with each other through similar sympathies in this matter, who had never before spoken to or seen each other. On the day after the full committal of the man, Mr Low received a most courteous letter from the Duchess of Omnium, begging him to call in Carlton Terrace if his engagements would permit him to do so. The Duchess had heard that Mr Low was devoting all his energies to the protection of Phineas Finn; and, as a certain friend of hers — a lady — was doing the same, she was anxious to bring them together. Indeed, she herself was equally prepared to devote her energies for the present to the same object. She had declared to all her friends — especially to her husband and to the Duke of St Bungay — her absolute conviction of the innocence of the accused man, and had called upon them to defend him. “My dear,” said the elder Duke, “I do not think that in my time any innocent man has ever lost his life upon the scaffold.”
“Is that a reason why our friend should be the first instance?” said the Duchess.
“He must be tried according to the laws of his country,” said the younger Duke.
“Plantagenet, you always speak as if everything were perfect, whereas you know very well that everything is imperfect. If that man is — is hung, I— ”
“Glencora,” said her husband, “do not connect yourself with the fate of a stranger from any misdirected enthusiasm.”
“I do connect myself. If that man be hung — I shall go into mourning for him. You had better look to it.”
Mr Low obeyed the summons, and called on the Duchess. But, in truth, the invitation had been planned by Madame Goesler, who was present when the lawyer, about five o’clock in the afternoon, was shown into the presence of the Duchess. Tea was immediately ordered, and Mr Low was almost embraced. He was introduced to Madame Goesler, of whom he did not before remember that he had heard the name, and was at once given to understand that the fate of Phineas was now in question. “We know so well,” said the Duchess, “how true you are to him.”
“He is an old friend of mine,” said the lawyer, “and I cannot believe him to have been guilty of a murder.”
“Guilty! — he is no more guilty than I am. We are as sure of that as we are of the sun. We know that he is innocent — do we not, Madame Goesler? And we, too, are very dear friends of his — that is, I am.”
“And so am I,” said Madame Goesler, in a voice very low and sweet, but yet so energetic as to make Mr Low almost rivet his attention upon her.
“You must understand, Mr Low, that Mr Finn is a man horribly hated by certain enemies. That wretched Mr Bonteen hated his very name. But there are other people who think very differently of him. He must be saved.”
“Indeed I hope he may,” said Mr Low.
“We wanted to see you for ever so many reasons. Of course you understand that — that any sum of money can be spent that the case may want.”
“Nothing will be spared on that account certainly,” said the lawyer.
“But money will do a great many things. We would send all round the world if we could get evidence against that other man — Lady Eustace’s husband, you know.”
“Can any good be done by sending all round the world?”
“He went back to his own home not long ago — in Poland, I think,” said Madame Goesler. “Perhaps he got the instrument there, and brought it with him.” Mr Low shook his head. “Of course we are very ignorant — but it would be a pity that everything should not be tried.”
“He might have got in and out of the window, you know,” said the Duchess. Still Mr Low shook his head. “I believe things can always be found out, if only you take trouble enough. And trouble means money — does it not? We wouldn’t mind how many thousand pounds it cost; would we, Marie?”
“I fear that the spending of thousands can do no good,” said Mr Low.
“But something must be done. You don’t mean to say that Mr Finn is to be hung because Lord Fawn says that he saw a man running along the street in a grey coat.”
“Certainly not.”
“There is nothing else against him — nobody else saw him.”
“If there be nothing else against him he will be acquitted.”
“You think then”, said Madame Goesler, “that there will be no use in tracing what the man Mealyus did when he was out of England. He might have bought a grey coat then, and have hidden it till this night, and then have thrown it away.” Mr Low listened to her with close attention, but again shook his head. “If it could be shown that the man had a grey coat at that time it would certainly weaken the effect of Mr Finn’s grey coat.”
“And if he bought a bludgeon there, it would weaken the effect of Mr Finn’s bludgeon. And if he bought rope to make a ladder it would show that he had got out. It was a dark night, you know, and nobody would have seen it. We have been talking it all over, Mr Low, and we really think you ought to send somebody.”
“I will mention what you say to the gentlemen who are employed on Mr Finn’s defence.”
“But will not you be employed?” Then Mr Low explained that the gentlemen to whom he referred were the attorneys who would get up the case on their friend’s behalf, and that as he himself practised in the Courts of Equity only, he could not defend Mr Finn on his trial.
“He must have the very best men,” said the Duchess.
“He must have good men, certainly.”
“And a great many. Couldn’t we get Sir Gregory Grogram?” Mr Low shook his head. “I know very well that if you get men who are really — really swells, for that is what it is, Mr Low — and pay them well enough, and so make it really an important thing, they can browbeat any judge and hoodwink any jury. I dare s............