When Madame Goesler revealed her plans and ideas to Mr Wickerby, the attorney, who had been employed to bring Phineas Finn through his troubles, that gentleman evidently did not think much of the unprofessional assistance which the lady proposed to give him. “I’m afraid it is far-fetched, Ma’am — if you understand what I mean,” said Mr Wickerby. Madame Goesler declared that she understood very well what Mr Wickerby meant, but that she could hardly agree with him. “According to that the gentleman must have plotted the murder more than a month before he committed it,” said Mr Wickerby.

“And why not?”

“Murder plots are generally the work of a few hours at the longest, Madame Goesler. Anger, combined with an indifference to self-sacrifice, does not endure the wear of many days. And the object here was insufficient. I don’t think we can ask to have the trial put off in order to find out whether a false key may have been made in Prague.”

“And you will not look for the coat?”

“We can look for it, and probably get it, if the woman has not lied to you; but I don’t think it will do us any good. The woman probably is lying. You have been paying her very liberally, so that she has been making an excellent livelihood out of the murder. No jury would believe her. And a grey coat is a very common thing. After all, it would prove nothing. It would only let the jury know that Mr Meager had a grey coat as well as Mr Finn. That Mr Finn wore a grey coat on that night is a fact which we can’t upset. If you got hold of Meager’s coat you wouldn’t be a bit nearer to proof that Emilius had worn it.”

“There would be the fact that he might have worn it.”

“Madame Goesler, indeed it would not help our client. You see what are the difficulties in our way. Mr Finn was on the spot at the moment, or so near it as to make it certainly possible that he might have been there. There is no such evidence as to Emilius, even if he could be shown to have had a latch-key. The man was killed by such an instrument as Mr Finn had about him. There is no evidence that Mr Emilius had such an instrument in his hand. A tall man in a grey coat was seen hurrying to the spot at the exact hour. Mr Finn is a tall man and wore a grey coat at the time. Emilius is not a tall man, and, even though Meager had a grey coat, there is no evidence to show that Emilius ever wore it. Mr Finn had quarelled violently with Mr Bonteen within the hour. It does not appear that Emilius ever quarelled with Mr Bonteen, though Mr Bonteen had exerted himself in opposition to Emilius.”

“Is there to be no defence, then?”

“Certainly there will be a defence, and such a defence as I think will prevent any jury from being unanimous in convicting my client. Though there is a great deal of evidence against him, it is all — what we call circumstantial.”

“I understand, Mr Wickerby.”

“Nobody saw him commit the murder.”

“Indeed no,” said Madame Goesler.

“Although there is personal similarity, there is no personal identity. There is no positive proof of anything illegal on his part, or of anything that would have been suspicious had no murder been committed — such as the purchase of poison, or carrying of a revolver. The life-preserver, had no such instrument been unfortunately used, might have been regarded as a thing of custom.”

“But I am sure that that Bohemian did murder Mr Bonteen, said Madame Goesler, with enthusiasm.

“Madame,” said Mr Wickerby, holding up both his hands, “I can only wish that you could be upon the jury.”

“And you won’t try to show that the other man might have done it?”

“I think not. Next to an alibi that breaks down — you know what an alibi is, Madame Goesler?”

“Yes, Mr Wickerby; I know what an alibi is.”

“Next to an alibi that breaks down, an unsuccessful attempt to affix the fault on another party is the most fatal blow which a prisoner’s counsel can inflict upon him. It is always taken by the jury as so much evidence against him. We must depend altogether on a different line of defence.”

“What line, Mr Wickerby?”

“Juries are always unwilling to hang,” — Madame Goesler shuddered as the horrid word was broadly pronounced — “and are apt to think that simply circumstantial evidence cannot be suffered to demand so disagreeable a duty. They are peculiarly averse to hanging a gentleman, and will hardly be induced to hang a member of Parliament. Then Mr Finn is very good-looking, and has been popular — which is all in his favour. And we shall have such evidence on the score of character as was never before brought into one of our courts. We shall have half the Cabinet. There will be two dukes.” Madame Goesler, as she listened to the admiring enthusiasm of the attorney while he went on with his list, acknowledged to herself that her dear friend, the Duchess, had not been idle. “There will be three Secretaries of State. The Secretary of State for the Home Department himself will be examined. I am not quite sure that we mayn’t get the Lord Chancellor. There will be Mr Monk — about the most popular man in England — who will speak of the prisoner as his particular friend. I don’t think any jury would hang a particular friend of Mr Monk’s. And there will be ever so many ladies. That has never been done before, but we mean to try it.” Madame Goesler had heard all this, and had herself assisted in the work. “I rather think we shall get four or five leading members of the Opposition, for they all disliked Mr Bonteen. If we could manage Mr Daubeny and Mr Gresham, I think we might reckon ourselves quite safe. I forgot to say that the Bishop of Barchester has promised.”

“All that won’t prove his innocence, Mr Wickerby.” Mr Wickerby shrugged his shoulders. “If he be acquitted after that fashion men then will say — that he was guilty.”

“We must think of his life first, Madame Goesler,” said the attorney.

Madame Goesler when she left the attorney’s room was very ill-satisfied with him. She desired some adherent to her cause who would with affectionate zeal resolve upon washing Phineas Finn white as snow in reference to the charge now made against him. But no man would so resolve who did not believe in his innocence — as Madame Goesler believed herself. She herself knew that her own belief was romantic and unpractical. Nevertheless, the conviction of the guilt of that other man, towards which she still thought that much could be done if that coat were found and the making of a secret key were proved, was so strong upon her that she would not allow herself to drop it. It would not be sufficient for her that Phineas Finn should be acquitted. She desired that the real murderer should be hung for the murder, so that all the world might be sure — as she was sure — that her hero had been wrongfully accused.

“Do you mean that you are going to start yourself?” the Duchess said to her that same afternoon.

“Yes, I am.”

“Then you must be very far gone in love, indeed.”

“You would do as much, Duchess, if you were free as I am. It isn’t a matter of love at all. It’s womanly enthusiasm for the cause one has taken up.&rdqu............