CHAPTERCXLII.CHARLES PEACE RETURNS HOME—THE BARRISTER’S STORY.Charles Peace, after his release from the stable, succeeded in getting out of the neighbourhood without attracting the attention of any officious or inquiring policeman.Used as he had been throughout his lawless career to dangerous escapes and alternations of fortune, this last adventure appeared to make so deep an impression on him that he was quite unnerved.This is saying a great deal, seeing that he was a man of so essentially a callous nature that the better instincts of his nature were submerged beneath an amount of guilt and atrocity, which, to a casual observer, would appear to be almost incredible.He could not fail to acknowledge to himself that he had a desperate struggle and a narrow escape. Had Lady Marvlynn elected to give him into custody he knew perfectly well that the hangman’s halter awaited him, for Lady Batershall knew perfectly well who he was, and she was too truthful by nature to screen him by any false statements.He did not for a moment doubt that she would have every wish to do so, but it would become an impossibility if he had been sent for trial.The world would then know that the respectable elderly gentleman in the Evalina-road, who passed as Mr. Thompson, was the murderer of Mr. Dyson, of Banner-cross.As Peace thought of this he turned pale and trembled for the future.He looked at this time a most pitiable object—his head throbbed with pain, and in addition to this his legs and shoulders bore upon them many severe bruises, the result of his fall through the conservatory.He was, however, not much injured by the broken glass, as his antagonist, the stalwart footman, was the first to fall through the roof of the conservatory, nevertheless he was in a most dilapidated condition, and felt dispirited and sick of heart.When he had got out of the neighbourhood he betook himself to a small coffee-shop. Here he had some refreshment, and begged permission to go into one of the bedrooms to wash himself, alleging as an excuse that he had been engaged in a fight with some one who had insulted him.Whether the coffee-house keeper believed his story it would not be so easy to say; however, he affected to do so. The house he kept was not of very good repute, being, in fact, one to which thieves resorted.Peace, after a wash up, together with a plentiful application of cold water to his head, felt a little better, and after swallowing his coffee and muffin, once more proceeded on his journey.He was now passable in his external appearance, so much so as not to attract attention; so in the course of half an hour after he had left the coffee-shop he went to the bar of a roadside public and swallowed two stiff glasses of brandy and water.As we have already indicated he was never at any time a drinking man, but, as he afterwards declared, he was so “limp” on this occasion that he was fain to have recourse to stimulants to wind himself up.We need not follow his footsteps further—it will be enough to note that he reached his residence in safety. Lady Marvlynn and Aveline returned to the grand room, in which the guests were assembled.An inquiry was made by several with regard to the prisoner, and a general expression of astonishment very naturally followed, when they were informed by the hostess that he had been set free.“What!—let the scoundrel go?” exclaimed Colonel Snappe. “I never heard of such a thing. Why, my dear Lady Marvlynn, what could you have been thinking about?”“He was contrite, and pleaded for mercy,” said her ladyship, with a shrug. “I suppose I have done wrong, but I could not find it in my heart to detain him.”“Well, I am indeed astonished,” said Lord Chetwynd. “It is positively most reprehensible.”“I expected you would all censure me,” observed Lady Marvlynn; “but it is done, and can’t be helped now.”“But the scoundrel knocked my hat over my eyes, and would have killed me if I’d given him the chance,” exclaimed Lord Fitzbogleton. “He’s a wetch whom hanging is too good for. I am sowwy you have let him go.”“So am I; so are we all, I expect,” remarked Major Smithers Smyth. “What say you, Mr. Quirp?”Mr. Quirp was a solicitor of Furnival’s-inn, Holborn.“I always regret hearing of the escape of a robber,” said he. “It but too frequently happens that men belonging to the criminal class escape through their victims declining to prosecute. There are many reasons for this. In the first place the duty which falls to the share of a prosecutor is at once an onerous and unpleasant one. It is attended with great inconvenience, loss of time, and in some cases considerable expense, and hence it is that so many object to the task.”“Clearly so,” observed Mr. Tangle, another of the company, a barrister in the Temple. “It has always been so. People do not like to be hanging about police-courts, but it is essential in the interests of society that persons should sacrifice their own personal comfort for the public good.”“I dare say Lady Marvlynn has made use of her good sense and judgment in this case,” cried Sir William Leathbridge, coming to the rescue. “It may be against the dictatorial opinions or views of our legal friends, but I am quite sure no one ought to blame her or any other woman for leaning to the side of mercy.”“Hear, hear,” cried several of the company.“I would not for a moment presume to dictate,” observed Quirp. “It would not be right and proper for me to do so; still, at the same time, I frankly confess I see much to regret in adopting such a course. If you knew how many hardened ruffians, how many habitual thieves escape from this cause, you would, I think, endorse the opinion expressed by myself and Mr. Tangle.”“I am sure they would, and, what’s more,” chimed in the other lawyer, “there are hundreds and thousands of men in the metropolis and elsewhere who calculate with the greatest possible coolness the chances of detection and conviction, and it is only the reliability and certainty that punishment follows detection that we can hope for any beneficial effect therefrom as a deterrent from the commission of crime.”“Ah, there is not the slightest doubt of that,” returned Sir William; “but, of course, there are exceptional cases.”“Very few, I fancy.”“But the wretch knocked my hat over my eyes,” cried Lord Fitzbogleton.“Do be quiet, and leave the other gentlemen to discuss the question,” observed Arabella Lovejoyce.“Oh, if you wish it, I will remain silent.”“I do wish it.”“Weally, Awabella, you are vewy pwovoking.”“And very unjust as well, my lord,” remarked Quirp. “The fact of his knocking your hat over your eyes is an additional reason for his not having mercy shown to him.”“Well, gentlemen,” said Lady Batershall, “it is not much use discussing the question now. Make yourselves as happy and comfortable as possible, and forget that a burglar has disturbed the harmony of the evening for a brief period.”“Well said,” cried Sir William Leathbridge. “I move that we adjourn the discussionsine die. How say you?”“Agreed,” cried several.“And so to change the subject,” said Mr. Tangle, “I will just recount for your delectation a case that came under my notice.”“That’s right,” cried Major Smithers Smythe.“Every man has something interesting to tell of his experience in life, and none are more prolific in that way than you gentlemen of the legal profession.”“I am not about to discuss some knotty point of law,” observed Tangle. “I leave that to its proper arena—a court of justice.”“I know as much about law as a Hottentot,” returned Smythe. “Still, although ignorant, I’m willing to learn.”“It was in the earlier days of my career,” said Tangle, “and briefs were like angels’ visits, but few and far between—in fact I had begun seriously to contemplate emigrating to British Columbia, or to some equally distant and desolate locality.“Fortunately for me and society generally, which sooner or later must recognise my distinguished merits by placing me on the bench, I abandoned the idea of British Columbia, and went to Reading; a beneficent fate rewarded me for my courage in the shape of a big brief with a small fee, to defend two men for conspiring to cheat a young gentleman with more money than brains, by gambling with him and using loaded dice.“It was a case that had excited a good deal of interest in the neighbourhood, partly from the very remarkable way in which the cheat had been discovered by a stranger who happened to be in the room where the play was going on, and who, suspecting that all was not right, had with a large carving fork pinned the hand of one of the conspirators to the table.“Underneath it, sure enough, were found the loaded dice, which he had manipulated up and down his sleeve so skilfully that the verdant youth found himself some five hundred pounds to the bad.“As counsel for the defendants, the aspect of the case was far from inviting, and as the very beery solicitor who instructed me observed, ‘It looked uncommon fishy.’“In that remark I entirely concurred, and folded up the papers with a hopeless sigh, cursing the ill-luck that always brought me the deadest cases.“In the present instance there was little for me to do but to sit by and hold my tongue—a process, by-the-way, anything but satisfactory to one fond of hearing the sound of his own voice.“Apart from professional regrets, I could not help feeling that this precious pair of rascals thoroughly deserved all they were likely to get, and the longer they were shut up, the better for the community at large.“The trial came on in due course, and the two prisoners were placed at the bar. As I looked at them, I was much struck with their gentlemanly appearance and dress, but then I remembered that, all that was part of the stock-in-trade of persons of their class, and turning to my brief, prepared to do battle.“As this is but a subsidiary portion of my story, it is unnecessary for me to linger over the details of the trial. They say that lucky fate often follows on the footsteps of rogues, and in this instance, by some unpardonable carelessness on the part of the constable, the loaded dice which had been found under the hand of one of the prisoners were not forthcoming, and after a great deal of wrangling with the counsel on the other side, the learned judge said that the prosecution in not producing it had, in his opinion, failed to make out a sufficient case to go to the jury, and that he must therefore direct a verdict for the acquittal of the prisoners.“They were as much astonished and overpowered as myself by the unexpected turn things had taken, and with admirable celerity disappeared from the dock.“Some four years afterwards I received a very pressing invitation from my old Eton friend, Charlie Forrester, asking me to run down to his place in Devonshire, and spend a few days with him.“Master Charlie, whose lines had fallen in exceeding pleasant places, and who at twenty-one had come into a very nice estate and some five thousand pounds annually, after tantalising all the marriageable girls in the county by refusing to go to balls and croquet parties, with invitations for which he was pertinaciously pestered from morning till night, had finally taken himself abroad, no one knew whither, and there remained between four and five years.“When he returned home again he brought a wife with him, a proceeding on his part which excited general discontent and disapprobation.“But Charlie cared very little what the country folks thought about him.“He was passionately fond of his wife, and consequently devoted to home, while he occupied his time in regulating the affairs of his estate and improving the breed of pigs. In short, he found within the limits of his park fence all the amusements and society he required.“His attachment for his wife was not surprising, for she was indeed a most lovely and charming woman, full of intelligence and good sense, and in every way fitted to preside over a household.“When she and Charlie first met at Pau she was the governess in an English family that was staying there; their courtship lasted but a few days, and one fine morning they met by appointment, and walking together to the church, were married before breakfast.“Violet Danvers had no idea of the position, pecuniary or otherwise, that attached to Charlie, but her life had been full of troubles, and all she knew was that he had been very kind and good to her.“Friends and relations she had none,” she said; and then, as she rested her head against his breast, and looked up into his eyes, Charles felt that Heaven had sent her for him to love and cherish.“He told her of his past life, and his wanderings in distant countries, and sought to engage her confidence in return; but she always seemed to avoid all reference to her own past, and would hurriedly turn the conversation into quite another channel.“Charlie was not of a suspicious nature, and had far too much love and confidence in his wife to fancy that she was concealing anything from him.“And so Violet came to her new home—to the old home in which generations of Forresters had lived and died.“It was not so very long after they had taken up their abode at ‘The Lions,’ that I received the invitation before alluded to; and as the long vacation had already commenced, and my pecuniary resources were not in a condition to stand a trip even to the sea-side, I thought the best thing I could do was to accept the hospitality that my old friend offered me.“A few days more found me comfortably installed at ‘The Lions,’ thoroughly enjoying the fresh air and strong exercise that followed, in pleasing contrast to the heated atmosphere of close courts and continuous sitting in dingy chambers.“I found Mrs. Forrester a most charming and amusing companion, though I could not help being struck by an air of constraint and reserve that at times settled upon her. A very brief acquaintance satisfied me that there was some mystery attaching to her which she dared not reveal.“One morning at breakfast, Charlie, after reading a letter he had just received by the post, informed us that it was from an old Paris friend of his whom he had met in his traveller days, and who, in pursuance of a long-standing invitation, had written to say that he proposed coming on a visit to ‘The Lions,’ and would, without waiting for a reply, put in an appearance that very evening.“Charlie was delighted at the prospect of seeing his old acquaintance, and in the course of a walk over the farm he informed me the name of the coming guest was Murray, and that he was blessed with a great deal of more ready wit than ready cash.“‘Though he is a bit of an adventurer in his way,’ said Charlie, ‘he is a capital fellow, and the best company in the world.’“It was very late when the expected guest arrived. Mrs. Forrester had retired to bed some time before. As for Charlie and myself, we kept the newcomer company while he supped, and when he had done ample justice to the good things before him, it being already in the small hours, bed was voted and carried unanimously.“I was very sleepy, and beyond uttering a mere commonplace or two had taken little or no notice of the stranger; but when he came across the room and held out his hand, which, oddly enough, was encased in a light-coloured glove of some sort, to bid me good night, as I looked him full in the face, he seemed to start for a moment.“Although his features were hidden by a heavy moustache and huge beard, there was something about them that appeared familiar to me. Where on earth could I have seen him before?“When I got upstairs into my bedroom, I puzzled my brain with inquiries, but all in vain; I could connect the face with nothing, and nothing with the face, and with that I got angry with myself, and went to sleep.“The next morning I awoke early, and feeling a strong inclination for a walk before breakfast, tumbled headlong into my cold tub, and in a very short time after had completed my ‘toilette,’ and was out in the glorious fresh air.“An hour’s stroll brought me back to the window of the breakfast-room, which opened into the garden, and with the appetite of a tiger I was on the point of entering when my step was arrested by the sound of Mrs. Forrester’s voice, trembling with emotion, exclaiming, ‘Say it is not true!—for pity’s sake, say it is not true!’“What could this mean? Being of a curious turn—my conduct may have been disgraceful, but hereafter I hope to stand excused for it; I moved into a position where I could see into the breakfast room without being seen, and hear all that was said.“In an arm-chair by the table, her face buried in her hands, and her elbows resting on her knees, Mrs. Forrester was rocking herself to and fro in a way that showed her to be labouring under deep emotion.“Close to her, in a strangely cool and insolent attitude stood the newcomer of last night, stroking his moustache with his gloved fingers.“‘Upon my word, my dear Violet,’ he replied to her entreaty, with a measured slowness of speech that made me long to kick him, ‘I regret to say that it is true; Arthur Bernard is no more dead than I am. Like Norval’s father, he at the present moment feeds his flocks, not, however, upon the Grampian Hills, but in the neighbourhood of the great city of Otago.’“‘But they told me he was dead,’ almost shrieked Mrs. Forrester; ‘the people who were with him when he died wrote to me.’“‘Wrote to you!’ interrupted Murray with suspicious eagerness. ‘Have you got the letter?’“‘No, I dared not keep it,’ she replied, ‘lest it should fall into my husband’s hands. Listen,’ she continued, hurriedly; ‘he knows nothing of the past—not even of my first marriage; I have kept it all, everything from him; for pity’s sake leave this place, where, save for the thought of that, I have been so happy, and let him remain in ignorance still.’“‘Gently, Violet, gently!’ responded the man, unmoved in the least degree by her appeal. ‘Firstly, let me observe that, having promised myself a short stay in the country, I can hardly terminate it so abruptly as you desire me; in the next, as in addition to the agreeable change of air, I have met, quite unexpectedly, with an old companion for whom I have been searching ever so many years, and to whom I have a good deal to say, it would be quite impossible to do as you wish.’“She made no response, only kept her face still buried in her hands as he went on. ‘At last, Violet Bernard, the game is in my hands. You laughed at my love, jeered at my protestations of devotion for you, curled up your proud lip at me, and dismissed me from your presence with contempt when I asked you to be my wife. I have not forgotten that, and never shall—never, never! But sooner or later you must hear me; mark, you must! Else——’ He paused an instant, and continued, ‘I won’t threaten, but remember Arthur Bernard lives!’“At this juncture Charles entered the room, but not before Mrs. Forrester had had time to collect herself; while Murray, without appearing in the least disconcerted, went on making some commonplace remarks about the weather.“As for myself, this interview, of which I had been an unseen spectator, had naturally aroused varied emotions, and before putting in an appearance at the breakfast table I thought it best to take a walk round the garden to indulge in a few moments’ reflection.“The confession is somewhat humilating, but I have always been rather fond of interfering in other people’s affairs, and in the present instance, having seen and heard all I had, I felt exceedingly reluctant to let the matter drop. The mystery attaching to Mrs. Forrester was not very difficult to unravel—at least in its main feature.“As for this Murray and the influence he seemed to possess over her, I had long since made up my mind that he was a villain who would stoop to any device, however contemptible, to ensure the success of any evil enterprise in which he might be engaged.“I determined to use every endeavour to defeat him in his present scheme, though let it not be for a moment supposed that any heroics were mixed up in this resolve.“I looked upon the whole matter rather as a game of chess, in which by hook or by crook I must checkmate my adversary.“When I reached the breakfast room, the trio seemed on the best possible terms one with another—Charlie cheerful and unsuspicious as ever, Mrs. Forrester playing nervously with a tiny piece of toast, which she made pretence to eat, but never touched, and Murray eating and talking with equal earnestness.“‘Oh, yes,’ he said, as I came in, ‘your wife and I, Charlie, have discovered that we are old acquaintances. Curious, isn’t it?’ Wheels within wheels! What fools we are to fancy our world to be such a huge place!’“I looked at his face as I sat down at the table more closely than I ever had before, and again the old thought of last night came back to me.“Then my eyes involuntarily settled on his hands; they were still encased in light gloves.“I do not know what it was that prompted me, but, joining in the conversation, I said—“‘You are right; I often tumbled across people I never expected to see again—mere passing acquaintances. Do you know,’ I continued, ‘last night when you arrived I fancied we had met before, though then you had no beard and moustache?’“I could have sworn, and did to myself at the moment, that his hand trembled as he raised his cup to his lips; but a moment after, as he set it down again, he was perfectly calm and cool, while in a nonchalant tone he replied—“‘I must say you have the advantage of me, as I am not aware that we ever met before; indeed, I am quite sure that we never did. Besides, I have worn a beard and moustache ever since one or the other would grow.’“‘Why, when you were in Paris you were as clean shaven as a priest on a feast-day,’ burst in Charlie, quite innocently; but Murray, without taking any notice of the observation, turned to Mrs. Forrester, and commenced talking to her about something quite different.“Slowly, but surely, a conviction was growing upon me that made me pay considerable respect to my impressions of the night before, and determined me to be more watchful than ever.“My only fear was that Mrs. Forrester, in the weakness of her terror, would take some desperate step, when after all, as I firmly believed, there was not the slightest ground for alarm.“In the course of the next twenty-four hours, by dint of pertinacious listening and watching, I found that Murray’s protestations of affection cooled in proportion as he ingenuously hinted that his silence may be purchased for a reasonable sum—a suggestion that his victim caught eagerly at, only to be the more crushed by the revulsion of feeling that followed when she reflected how utterly impossible it was for her to obtain the two hundred pounds he modestly asked.“He was treading on dangerous ground, this same Murray; even as he stood there I might have handed him into the custody of the nearest constable on a charge of endeavouring to extort money by threats and menaces.“Looking at it from a legal point of view, this would have been an excellent course to adopt; but it was the exposure that was to be avoided, and, therefore, it was necessary to adopt different tactics.“For three days I watched—with what a trial to the patience can readily be imagined—this human spider torturing the poor fly he had got into his web: he cool, courteous, and insinuating as he worked out his scheme; she growing weaker and weaker, and losing all strength and courage, only to find it again to take one last desperate step, and thus for ever put an end to the torture she was suffering.“Yet all this while her husband seemed to notice nothing amiss with her, though her eyes were often red with weeping, and her face wore a settled look of melancholy and despair.“Not that he failed in affection or tenderness, only he was one of those men who, in the goodness of their own digestions and the smoothness of their life-stream, look upon dyspepsia as a popular delusion, and cannot understand why any one should be unhappy.“It was the evening of the fourth day since Murray’s arrival, and after dinner I had left him and Charlie discussing a bottle of ’54 Chateau Margaux and their old Paris days, and was wandering down a side-path that led into the plantation, when I suddenly trod on something.“Looking downward, I saw that it was a pocket-book, of somewhat bulky dimensions. There was only one thing to be done—namely, to pick it up, unclasp it, and examine the contents—which, I need scarcely add, I faithfully did.“This investigation having been satisfactorily accomplished, I placed the pocket-book in my pocket, and strolled on into the plantation, again to reflect what my next move with Mr. Murray should be. I knew the game was in my hands “now;” my only puzzle was, how to play it without making a disturbance.“Still, what was to be done must be done quickly. As I came to this determination I found myself standing by a small lake that lay in the midst of the plantation; almost at the same moment I heard a groan, as of some one in distress.“Turning eagerly to the direction whence it seemed to come; through the dusk which was now growing into darkness, I saw the flutter of a white dress near the head of the lake. I know not what possessed me, but a thought seized me that sent me tearing through the bushes and brambles with frantic speed.“A few seconds more, and I had caught Mrs. Forrester by the wrist.“‘What would you do, woman?’ I exclaimed, breathless.“She made no answer—only fell fainting at my feet.“When I got back to the house I found Murray alone in the dining-room, paying the closest attention to a second bottle of the ’54 Chateau Margaux, to better appreciate which the lamp had been brought in, so that he might examine the marvellous beauty of its colour.“Charlie was closeted in the smoking-room with his farm bailiff; in short, the opportunity of an interview alone with Murray, that I so much wanted, presented itself. I was not slow to take advantage of it; and, flinging myself into an arm-chair close to him, poured out a glass of wine, and settled comfortably to my task.“It was pretty plain that he was anything but pleased at the prospect of atete-a-tete, and seemed not altogether easy in his chair.“‘I was thinking of taking a stroll in the garden,’ he said, half rising from his chair.“‘A pity to leave such excellent tipple,’ I replied; ‘besides, it’s rather chilly. ‘Do you know,’ I continued, ‘I have been thinking of that observation you made the other night, when I said we had met before, and, upon my word, I believe I was right after all. I have such a capital memory for faces that I cannot imagine myself mistaken.”“‘Indeed,’ he laughed, roughly, ‘you seem to have great confidence in yourself; unfortunately, as I told you, in this instance you are mistaken.”“‘Well, perhaps I am,’ was my answer, as I drew my chair a little nearer to his. “The strangest part of my error was that I fancied you were one of two men I defended at Reading some four years ago, for conspiring to cheat a young undergraduate out or his money by playing with loaded dice.’“He was far too much on his guard to make any sign; he only said, with a smile, ‘You certainly paid me a great compliment.’ But I saw that he was drawing away his right hand, which had hitherto been resting on the table. ‘It was a remarkable case,’ I continued, ‘chiefly from the way in which the roguery was detected. The hand of the man who was manipulating the loaded dice was, as yours might be, on the table, to all appearances, in the most innocent manner possible’—with that, as if to give him ocular demonstration of the way in which the cheat had been effected, I took hold of his hand and held it on the table—‘when a stranger, who had been sitting at the further end of the room, came quickly to the side of the rogue, and in an instant more had pinned his hand with a carving-fork to the mahogany.’ I felt that I had carried the play on long enough, and quickly inserting my finger at the top of his glove, I tore it down the back. He jumped to his feet, and so did I. “You are the man,’ I said, ‘whose hand was so pinned to the table, and that scar is the evidence I should call, if it were necessary to prove it, Therefore, sit down and hear what else I have to say.’“He glared viciously at me, lifted his fist as if he would have struck me, and then sank into his chair again.“‘A man who could try to rob a poor silly boy by such disgraceful means,’ I continued, ‘could bardly be expected to have any pity on a helpless woman; but, fortunately, I have been a witness of your endeavours on more than one occasion, by threats and menaces, to extort a large sum of money from your host’s wife, and that by representing to her that her first husband was alive, and at Otago, New Zealand, when you knew as well as I do that he was dead, and has been so these two years.’“‘He is not dead,’ growled Murray.“‘He is dead,’ I replied, ‘and your own pocket-book proves it.’“As I said this, I held up to him the wallet that I had tumbled upon in the plantation walk, in one of the pockets of which, among a number of other exceedingly suspicious-looking documents, I had found a certificate of the death of Arthur Bernard.“But as I have been a very long time in telling my story—barristers are proverbially long-winded, you know—I must hurry to a conclusion.“The morning following our interview, Murray, with many excuses and regrets, found himself unavoidably compelled to return to town.“As he got into the phaeton that was to take him to the station he kindly whispered in my ear, ‘I’ll live to pay you out for this yet!’ a promise that I somehow or other fancy he will fulfil some day. Till then I am content to forget all about him.“As for Mrs. Forrester, the clouds upon her horizon have lifted; she has buried a sad and painful past, and lives in a present, loved as dearly and tenderly as ever by Charlie, who knows nothing, and who never shall, unless she, as I have advised her, has the courage to tell him all, even to the extent that her first husband, Arthur Bernard, was the co-conspirator who stood at Murray’s side in the felon’s dock.“I have every hope that she will do this, for the confidence between husband and wife should be as clear as the day at noon.”“Well, Mr. Tangle,” said Lord Chetwynd, when the barrister had brought his narrative to an end, “it is a most interesting story of real life, and I expect you gentlemen of the long robe are the possessors of secrets of a similar character, which, in many cases, you are, for various reasons, not permitted to divulge.”“Yes, we are at times the recipients of many a domestic drama or tragedy.”“And did Mrs. Forrester ever make known to her husband the history of her first unfortunate marriage?”“I believe not. Certainly not that I am aware of. It was a matter I did not choose to interfere in beyond giving her a word or so of advice. No man has a right to interfere between husband and wife, you know.”“He was a base scoundrel,” observed Quirp, “and for such men we should have no pity; one hardly knows what punishment such a fellow deserves.”“Solitary confinement,” cried Major Smythe. “That’s the way to bring a fellow to his senses. If that doesn’t succeed nothing will.”“Well, you see,” remarked Quirp, “solitary confinement is so terrible that it cannot be resorted to with safety; after a time it has been found to drive prisoners mad.”“Drive them mad—eh?”“Dear me, yes. Didn’t you know that? It is the most fearful of all punishments, and has been tried in the penal prisons of this country and elsewhere. I will give you an account of a prison I visited while this punishment was in operation.“The prison I am about to speak of was in Philadelphia, to which city an important will case once necessitated my paying a visit. Let me premise here that the solitary system was, at that time at least, practised in American prisons with far more rigour than in English gaols, and sometimes lasted a lifetime, or ended in the madness of the prisoner.”
Charles Peace, after his release from the stable, succeeded in getting out of the neighbourhood without attracting the attention of any officious or inquiring policeman.
Used as he had been throughout his lawless career to dangerous escapes and alternations of fortune, this last adventure appeared to make so deep an impression on him that he was quite unnerved.
This is saying a great deal, seeing that he was a man of so essentially a callous nature that the better instincts of his nature were submerged beneath an amount of guilt and atrocity, which, to a casual observer, would appear to be almost incredible.
He could not fail to acknowledge to himself that he had a desperate struggle and a narrow escape. Had Lady Marvlynn elected to give him into custody he knew perfectly well that the hangman’s halter awaited him, for Lady Batershall knew perfectly well who he was, and she was too truthful by nature to screen him by any false statements.
He did not for a moment doubt that she would have every wish to do so, but it would become an impossibility if he had been sent for trial.
The world would then know that the respectable elderly gentleman in the Evalina-road, who passed as Mr. Thompson, was the murderer of Mr. Dyson, of Banner-cross.
As Peace thought of this he turned pale and trembled for the future.
He looked at this time a most pitiable object—his head throbbed with pain, and in addition to this his legs and shoulders bore upon them many severe bruises, the result of his fall through the conservatory.
He was, however, not much injured by the broken glass, as his antagonist, the stalwart footman, was the first to fall through the roof of the conservatory, nevertheless he was in a most dilapidated condition, and felt dispirited and sick of heart.
When he had got out of the neighbourhood he betook himself to a small coffee-shop. Here he had some refreshment, and begged permission to go into one of the bedrooms to wash himself, alleging as an excuse that he had been engaged in a fight with some one who had insulted him.
Whether the coffee-house keeper believed his story it would not be so easy to say; however, he affected to do so. The house he kept was not of very good repute, being, in fact, one to which thieves resorted.
Peace, after a wash up, together with a plentiful application of cold water to his head, felt a little better, and after swallowing his coffee and muffin, once more proceeded on his journey.
He was now passable in his external appearance, so much so as not to attract attention; so in the course of half an hour after he had left the coffee-shop he went to the bar of a roadside public and swallowed two stiff glasses of brandy and water.
As we have already indicated he was never at any time a drinking man, but, as he afterwards declared, he was so “limp” on this occasion that he was fain to have recourse to stimulants to wind himself up.
We need not follow his footsteps further—it will be enough to note that he reached his residence in safety. Lady Marvlynn and Aveline returned to the grand room, in which the guests were assembled.
An inquiry was made by several with regard to the prisoner, and a general expression of astonishment very naturally followed, when they were informed by the hostess that he had been set free.
“What!—let the scoundrel go?” exclaimed Colonel Snappe. “I never heard of such a thing. Why, my dear Lady Marvlynn, what could you have been thinking about?”
“He was contrite, and pleaded for mercy,” said her ladyship, with a shrug. “I suppose I have done wrong, but I could not find it in my heart to detain him.”
“Well, I am indeed astonished,” said Lord Chetwynd. “It is positively most reprehensible.”
“I expected you would all censure me,” observed Lady Marvlynn; “but it is done, and can’t be helped now.”
“But the scoundrel knocked my hat over my eyes, and would have killed me if I’d given him the chance,” exclaimed Lord Fitzbogleton. “He’s a wetch whom hanging is too good for. I am sowwy you have let him go.”
“So am I; so are we all, I expect,” remarked Major Smithers Smyth. “What say you, Mr. Quirp?”
Mr. Quirp was a solicitor of Furnival’s-inn, Holborn.
“I always regret hearing of the escape of a robber,” said he. “It but too frequently happens that men belonging to the criminal class escape through their victims declining to prosecute. There are many reasons for this. In the first place the duty which falls to the share of a prosecutor is at once an onerous and unpleasant one. It is attended with great inconvenience, loss of time, and in some cases considerable expense, and hence it is that so many object to the task.”
“Clearly so,” observed Mr. Tangle, another of the company, a barrister in the Temple. “It has always been so. People do not like to be hanging about police-courts, but it is essential in the interests of society that persons should sacrifice their own personal comfort for the public good.”
“I dare say Lady Marvlynn has made use of her good sense and judgment in this case,” cried Sir William Leathbridge, coming to the rescue. “It may be against the dictatorial opinions or views of our legal friends, but I am quite sure no one ought to blame her or any other woman for leaning to the side of mercy.”
“Hear, hear,” cried several of the company.
“I would not for a moment presume to dictate,” observed Quirp. “It would not be right and proper for me to do so; still, at the same time, I frankly confess I see much to regret in adopting such a course. If you knew how many hardened ruffians, how many habitual thieves escape from this cause, you would, I think, endorse the opinion expressed by myself and Mr. Tangle.”
“I am sure they would, and, what’s more,” chimed in the other lawyer, “there are hundreds and thousands of men in the metropolis and elsewhere who calculate with the greatest possible coolness the chances of detection and conviction, and it is only the reliability and certainty that punishment follows detection that we can hope for any beneficial effect therefrom as a deterrent from the commission of crime.”
“Ah, there is not the slightest doubt of that,” returned Sir William; “but, of course, there are exceptional cases.”
“Very few, I fancy.”
“But the wretch knocked my hat over my eyes,” cried Lord Fitzbogleton.
“Do be quiet, and leave the other gentlemen to discuss the question,” observed Arabella Lovejoyce.
“Oh, if you wish it, I will remain silent.”
“I do wish it.”
“Weally, Awabella, you are vewy pwovoking.”
“And very unjust as well, my lord,” remarked Quirp. “The fact of his knocking your hat over your eyes is an additional reason for his not having mercy shown to him.”
“Well, gentlemen,” said Lady Batershall, “it is not much use discussing the question now. Make yourselves as happy and comfortable as possible, and forget that a burglar has disturbed the harmony of the evening for a brief period.”
“Well said,” cried Sir William Leathbridge. “I move that we adjourn the discussionsine die. How say you?”
“Agreed,” cried several.
“And so to change the subject,” said Mr. Tangle, “I will just recount for your delectation a case that came under my notice.”
“That’s right,” cried Major Smithers Smythe.
“Every man has something interesting to tell of his experience in life, and none are more prolific in that way than you gentlemen of the legal profession.”
“I am not about to discuss some knotty point of law,” observed Tangle. “I leave that to its proper arena—a court of justice.”
“I know as much about law as a Hottentot,” returned Smythe. “Still, although ignorant, I’m willing to learn.”
“It was in the earlier days of my career,” said Tangle, “and briefs were like angels’ visits, but few and far between—in fact I had begun seriously to contemplate emigrating to British Columbia, or to some equally distant and desolate locality.
“Fortunately for me and society generally, which sooner or later must recognise my distinguished merits by placing me on the bench, I abandoned the idea of British Columbia, and went to Reading; a beneficent fate rewarded me for my courage in the shape of a big brief with a small fee, to defend two men for conspiring to cheat a young gentleman with more money than brains, by gambling with him and using loaded dice.
“It was a case that had excited a good deal of interest in the neighbourhood, partly from the very remarkable way in which the cheat had been discovered by a stranger who happened to be in the room where the play was going on, and who, suspecting that all was not right, had with a large carving fork pinned the hand of one of the conspirators to the table.
“Underneath it, sure enough, were found the loaded dice, which he had manipulated up and down his sleeve so skilfully that the verdant youth found himself some five hundred pounds to the bad.
“As counsel for the defendants, the aspect of the case was far from inviting, and as the very beery solicitor who instructed me observed, ‘It looked uncommon fishy.’
“In that remark I entirely concurred, and folded up the papers with a hopeless sigh, cursing the ill-luck that always brought me the deadest cases.
“In the present instance there was little for me to do but to sit by and hold my tongue—a process, by-the-way, anything but satisfactory to one fond of hearing the sound of his own voice.
“Apart from professional regrets, I could not help feeling that this precious pair of rascals thoroughly deserved all they were likely to get, and the longer they were shut up, the better for the community at large.
“The trial came on in due course, and the two prisoners were placed at the bar. As I looked at them, I was much struck with their gentlemanly appearance and dress, but then I remembered that, all that was part of the stock-in-trade of persons of their class, and turning to my brief, prepared to do battle.
“As this is but a subsidiary portion of my story, it is unnecessary for me to linger over the details of the trial. They say that lucky fate often follows on the footsteps of rogues, and in this instance, by some unpardonable carelessness on the part of the constable, the loaded dice which had been found under the hand of one of the prisoners were not forthcoming, and after a great deal of wrangling with the counsel on the other side, the learned judge said that the prosecution in not producing it had, in his opinion, failed to make out a sufficient case to go to the jury, and that he must therefore direct a verdict for the acquittal of the prisoners.
“They were as much astonished and overpowered as myself by the unexpected turn things had taken, and with admirable celerity disappeared from the dock.
“Some four years afterwards I received a very pressing invitation from my old Eton friend, Charlie Forrester, asking me to run down to his place in Devonshire, and spend a few days with him.
“Master Charlie, whose lines had fallen in exceeding pleasant places, and who at twenty-one had come into a very nice estate and some five thousand pounds annually, after tantalising all the marriageable girls in the county by refusing to go to balls and croquet parties, with invitations for which he was pertinaciously pestered from morning till night, had finally taken himself abroad, no one knew whither, and there remained between four and five years.
“When he returned home again he brought a wife with him, a proceeding on his part which excited general discontent and disapprobation.
“But Charlie cared very little what the country folks thought about him.
“He was passionately fond of his wife, and consequently devoted to home, while he occupied his time in regulating the affairs of his estate and improving the breed of pigs. In short, he found within the limits of his park fence all the amusements and society he required.
“His attachment for his wife was not surprising, for she was indeed a most lovely and charming woman, full of intelligence and good sense, and in every way fitted to preside over a household.
“When she and Charlie first met at Pau she was the governess in an English family that was staying there; their courtship lasted but a few days, and one fine morning they met by appointment, and walking together to the church, were married before breakfast.
“Violet Danvers had no idea of the position, pecuniary or otherwise, that attached to Charlie, but her life had been full of troubles, and all she knew was that he had been very kind and good to her.
“Friends and relations she had none,” she said; and then, as she rested her head against his breast, and looked up into his eyes, Charles felt that Heaven had sent her for him to love and cherish.
“He told her of his past life, and his wanderings in distant countries, and sought to engage her confidence in return; but she always seemed to avoid all reference to her own past, and would hurriedly turn the conversation into quite another channel.
“Charlie was not of a suspicious nature, and had far too much love and confidence in his wife to fancy that she was concealing anything from him.
“And so Violet came to her new home—to the old home in which generations of Forresters had lived and died.
“It was not so very long after they had taken up their abode at ‘The Lions,’ that I received the invitation before alluded to; and as the long vacation had already commenced, and my pecuniary resources were not in a condition to stand a trip even to the sea-side, I thought the best thing I could do was to accept the hospitality that my old friend offered me.
“A few days more found me comfortably installed at ‘The Lions,’ thoroughly enjoying the fresh air and strong exercise that followed, in pleasing contrast to the heated atmosphere of close courts and continuous sitting in dingy chambers.
“I found Mrs. Forrester a most charming and amusing companion, though I could not help being struck by an air of constraint and reserve that at times settled upon her. A very brief acquaintance satisfied me that there was some mystery attaching to her which she dared not reveal.
“One morning at breakfast, Charlie, after reading a letter he had just received by the post, informed us that it was from an old Paris friend of his whom he had met in his traveller days, and who, in pursuance of a long-standing invitation, had written to say that he proposed coming on a visit to ‘The Lions,’ and would, without waiting for a reply, put in an appearance that very evening.
“Charlie was delighted at the prospect of seeing his old acquaintance, and in the course of a walk over the farm he informed me the name of the coming guest was Murray, and that he was blessed with a great deal of more ready wit than ready cash.
“‘Though he is a bit of an adventurer in his way,’ said Charlie, ‘he is a capital fellow, and the best company in the world.’
“It was very late when the expected guest arrived. Mrs. Forrester had retired to bed some time before. As for Charlie and myself, we kept the newcomer company while he supped, and when he had done ample justice to the good things before him, it being already in the small hours, bed was voted and carried unanimously.
“I was very sleepy, and beyond uttering a mere commonplace or two had taken little or no notice of the stranger; but when he came across the room and held out his hand, which, oddly enough, was encased in a light-coloured glove of some sort, to bid me good night, as I looked him full in the face, he seemed to start for a moment.
“Although his features were hidden by a heavy moustache and huge beard, there was something about them that appeared familiar to me. Where on earth could I have seen him before?
“When I got upstairs into my bedroom, I puzzled my brain with inquiries, but all in vain; I could connect the face with nothing, and nothing with the face, and with that I got angry with myself, and went to sleep.
“The next morning I awoke early, and feeling a strong inclination for a walk before breakfast, tumbled headlong into my cold tub, and in a very short time after had completed my ‘toilette,’ and was out in the glorious fresh air.
“An hour’s stroll brought me back to the window of the breakfast-room, which opened into the garden, and with the appetite of a tiger I was on the point of entering when my step was arrested by the sound of Mrs. Forrester’s voice, trembling with emotion, exclaiming, ‘Say it is not true!—for pity’s sake, say it is not true!’
“What could this mean? Being of a curious turn—my conduct may have been disgraceful, but hereafter I hope to stand excused for it; I moved into a position where I could see into the breakfast room without being seen, and hear all that was said.
“In an arm-chair by the table, her face buried in her hands, and her elbows resting on her knees, Mrs. Forrester was rocking herself to and fro in a way that showed her to be labouring under deep emotion.
“Close to her, in a strangely cool and insolent attitude stood the newcomer of last night, stroking his moustache with his gloved fingers.
“‘Upon my word, my dear Violet,’ he replied to her entreaty, with a measured slowness of speech that made me long to kick him, ‘I regret to say that it is true; Arthur Bernard is no more dead than I am. Like Norval’s father, he at the present moment feeds his flocks, not, however, upon the Grampian Hills, but in the neighbourhood of the great city of Otago.’
“‘But they told me he was dead,’ almost shrieked Mrs. Forrester; ‘the people who were with him when he died wrote to me.’
“‘Wrote to you!’ interrupted Murray with suspicious eagerness. ‘Have you got the letter?’
“‘No, I dared not keep it,’ she replied, ‘lest it should fall into my husband’s hands. Listen,’ she continued, hurriedly; ‘he knows nothing of the past—not even of my first marriage; I have kept it all, everything from him; for pity’s sake leave this place, where, save for the thought of that, I have been so happy, and let him remain in ignorance still.’
“‘Gently, Violet, gently!’ responded the man, unmoved in the least degree by her appeal. ‘Firstly, let me observe that, having promised myself a short stay in the country, I can hardly terminate it so abruptly as you desire me; in the next, as in addition to the agreeable change of air, I have met, quite unexpectedly, with an old companion for whom I have been searching ever so many years, and to whom I have a good deal to say, it would be quite impossible to do as you wish.’
“She made no response, only kept her face still buried in her hands as he went on. ‘At last, Violet Bernard, the game is in my hands. You laughed at my love, jeered at my protestations of devotion for you, curled up your proud lip at me, and dismissed me from your presence with contempt when I asked you to be my wife. I have not forgotten that, and never shall—never, never! But sooner or later you must hear me; mark, you must! Else——’ He paused an instant, and continued, ‘I won’t threaten, but remember Arthur Bernard lives!’
“At this juncture Charles entered the room, but not before Mrs. Forrester had had time to collect herself; while Murray, without appearing in the least disconcerted, went on making some commonplace remarks about the weather.
“As for myself, this interview, of which I had been an unseen spectator, had naturally aroused varied emotions, and before putting in an appearance at the breakfast table I thought it best to take a walk round the garden to indulge in a few moments’ reflection.
“The confession is somewhat humilating, but I have always been rather fond of interfering in other people’s affairs, and in the present instance, having seen and heard all I had, I felt exceedingly reluctant to let the matter drop. The mystery attaching to Mrs. Forrester was not very difficult to unravel—at least in its main feature.
“As for this Murray and the influence he seemed to possess over her, I had long since made up my mind that he was a villain who would stoop to any device, however contemptible, to ensure the success of any evil enterprise in which he might be engaged.
“I determined to use every endeavour to defeat him in his present scheme, though let it not be for a moment supposed that any heroics were mixed up in this resolve.
“I looked upon the whole matter rather as a game of chess, in which by hook or by crook I must checkmate my adversary.
“When I reached the breakfast room, the trio seemed on the best possible terms one with another—Charlie cheerful and unsuspicious as ever, Mrs. Forrester playing nervously with a tiny piece of toast, which she made pretence to eat, but never touched, and Murray eating and talking with equal earnestness.
“‘Oh, yes,’ he said, as I came in, ‘your wife and I, Charlie, have discovered that we are old acquaintances. Curious, isn’t it?’ Wheels within wheels! What fools we are to fancy our world to be such a huge place!’
“I looked at his face as I sat down at the table more closely than I ever had before, and again the old thought of last night came back to me.
“Then my eyes involuntarily settled on his hands; they were still encased in light gloves.
“I do not know what it was that prompted me, but, joining in the conversation, I said—
“‘You are right; I often tumbled across people I never expected to see again—mere passing acquaintances. Do you know,’ I continued, ‘last night when you arrived I fancied we had met before, though then you had no beard and moustache?’
“I could have sworn, and did to myself at the moment, that his hand trembled as he raised his cup to his lips; but a moment after, as he set it down again, he was perfectly calm and cool, while in a nonchalant tone he replied—
“‘I must say you have the advantage of me, as I am not aware that we ever met before; indeed, I am quite sure that we never did. Besides, I have worn a beard and moustache ever since one or the other would grow.’
“‘Why, when you were in Paris you were as clean shaven as a priest on a feast-day,’ burst in Charlie, quite innocently; but Murray, without taking any notice of the observation, turned to Mrs. Forrester, and commenced talking to her about something quite different.
“Slowly, but surely, a conviction was growing upon me that made me pay considerable respect to my impressions of the night before, and determined me to be more watchful than ever.
“My only fear was that Mrs. Forrester, in the weakness of her terror, would take some desperate step, when after all, as I firmly believed, there was not the slightest ground for alarm.
“In the course of the next twenty-four hours, by dint of pertinacious listening and watching, I found that Murray’s protestations of affection cooled in proportion as he ingenuously hinted that his silence may be purchased for a reasonable sum—a suggestion that his victim caught eagerly at, only to be the more crushed by the revulsion of feeling that followed when she reflected how utterly impossible it was for her to obtain the two hundred pounds he modestly asked.
“He was treading on dangerous ground, this same Murray; even as he stood there I might have handed him into the custody of the nearest constable on a charge of endeavouring to extort money by threats and menaces.
“Looking at it from a legal point of view, this would have been an excellent course to adopt; but it was the exposure that was to be avoided, and, therefore, it was necessary to adopt different tactics.
“For three days I watched—with what a trial to the patience can readily be imagined—this human spider torturing the poor fly he had got into his web: he cool, courteous, and insinuating as he worked out his scheme; she growing weaker and weaker, and losing all strength and courage, only to find it again to take one last desperate step, and thus for ever put an end to the torture she was suffering.
“Yet all this while her husband seemed to notice nothing amiss with her, though her eyes were often red with weeping, and her face wore a settled look of melancholy and despair.
“Not that he failed in affection or tenderness, only he was one of those men who, in the goodness of their own digestions and the smoothness of their life-stream, look upon dyspepsia as a popular delusion, and cannot understand why any one should be unhappy.
“It was the evening of the fourth day since Murray’s arrival, and after dinner I had left him and Charlie discussing a bottle of ’54 Chateau Margaux and their old Paris days, and was wandering down a side-path that led into the plantation, when I suddenly trod on something.
“Looking downward, I saw that it was a pocket-book, of somewhat bulky dimensions. There was only one thing to be done—namely, to pick it up, unclasp it, and examine the contents—which, I need scarcely add, I faithfully did.
“This investigation having been satisfactorily accomplished, I placed the pocket-book in my pocket, and strolled on into the plantation, again to reflect what my next move with Mr. Murray should be. I knew the game was in my hands “now;” my only puzzle was, how to play it without making a disturbance.
“Still, what was to be done must be done quickly. As I came to this determination I found myself standing by a small lake that lay in the midst of the plantation; almost at the same moment I heard a groan, as of some one in distress.
“Turning eagerly to the direction whence it seemed to come; through the dusk which was now growing into darkness, I saw the flutter of a white dress near the head of the lake. I know not what possessed me, but a thought seized me that sent me tearing through the bushes and brambles with frantic speed.
“A few seconds more, and I had caught Mrs. Forrester by the wrist.
“‘What would you do, woman?’ I exclaimed, breathless.
“She made no answer—only fell fainting at my feet.
“When I got back to the house I found Murray alone in the dining-room, paying the closest attention to a second bottle of the ’54 Chateau Margaux, to better appreciate which the lamp had been brought in, so that he might examine the marvellous beauty of its colour.
“Charlie was closeted in the smoking-room with his farm bailiff; in short, the opportunity of an interview alone with Murray, that I so much wanted, presented itself. I was not slow to take advantage of it; and, flinging myself into an arm-chair close to him, poured out a glass of wine, and settled comfortably to my task.
“It was pretty plain that he was anything but pleased at the prospect of atete-a-tete, and seemed not altogether easy in his chair.
“‘I was thinking of taking a stroll in the garden,’ he said, half rising from his chair.
“‘A pity to leave such excellent tipple,’ I replied; ‘besides, it’s rather chilly. ‘Do you know,’ I continued, ‘I have been thinking of that observation you made the other night, when I said we had met before, and, upon my word, I believe I was right after all. I have such a capital memory for faces that I cannot imagine myself mistaken.”
“‘Indeed,’ he laughed, roughly, ‘you seem to have great confidence in yourself; unfortunately, as I told you, in this instance you are mistaken.”
“‘Well, perhaps I am,’ was my answer, as I drew my chair a little nearer to his. “The strangest part of my error was that I fancied you were one of two men I defended at Reading some four years ago, for conspiring to cheat a young undergraduate out or his money by playing with loaded dice.’
“He was far too much on his guard to make any sign; he only said, with a smile, ‘You certainly paid me a great compliment.’ But I saw that he was drawing away his right hand, which had hitherto been resting on the table. ‘It was a remarkable case,’ I continued, ‘chiefly from the way in which the roguery was detected. The hand of the man who was manipulating the loaded dice was, as yours might be, on the table, to all appearances, in the most innocent manner possible’—with that, as if to give him ocular demonstration of the way in which the cheat had been effected, I took hold of his hand and held it on the table—‘when a stranger, who had been sitting at the further end of the room, came quickly to the side of the rogue, and in an instant more had pinned his hand with a carving-fork to the mahogany.’ I felt that I had carried the play on long enough, and quickly inserting my finger at the top of his glove, I tore it down the back. He jumped to his feet, and so did I. “You are the man,’ I said, ‘whose hand was so pinned to the table, and that scar is the evidence I should call, if it were necessary to prove it, Therefore, sit down and hear what else I have to say.’
“He glared viciously at me, lifted his fist as if he would have struck me, and then sank into his chair again.
“‘A man who could try to rob a poor silly boy by such disgraceful means,’ I continued, ‘could bardly be expected to have any pity on a helpless woman; but, fortunately, I have been a witness of your endeavours on more than one occasion, by threats and menaces, to extort a large sum of money from your host’s wife, and that by representing to her that her first husband was alive, and at Otago, New Zealand, when you knew as well as I do that he was dead, and has been so these two years.’
“‘He is not dead,’ growled Murray.
“‘He is dead,’ I replied, ‘and your own pocket-book proves it.’
“As I said this, I held up to him the wallet that I had tumbled upon in the plantation walk, in one of the pockets of which, among a number of other exceedingly suspicious-looking documents, I had found a certificate of the death of Arthur Bernard.
“But as I have been a very long time in telling my story—barristers are proverbially long-winded, you know—I must hurry to a conclusion.
“The morning following our interview, Murray, with many excuses and regrets, found himself unavoidably compelled to return to town.
“As he got into the phaeton that was to take him to the station he kindly whispered in my ear, ‘I’ll live to pay you out for this yet!’ a promise that I somehow or other fancy he will fulfil some day. Till then I am content to forget all about him.
“As for Mrs. Forrester, the clouds upon her horizon have lifted; she has buried a sad and painful past, and lives in a present, loved as dearly and tenderly as ever by Charlie, who knows nothing, and who never shall, unless she, as I have advised her, has the courage to tell him all, even to the extent that her first husband, Arthur Bernard, was the co-conspirator who stood at Murray’s side in the felon’s dock.
“I have every hope that she will do this, for the confidence between husband and wife should be as clear as the day at noon.”
“Well, Mr. Tangle,” said Lord Chetwynd, when the barrister had brought his narrative to an end, “it is a most interesting story of real life, and I expect you gentlemen of the long robe are the possessors of secrets of a similar character, which, in many cases, you are, for various reasons, not permitted to divulge.”
“Yes, we are at times the recipients of many a domestic drama or tragedy.”
“And did Mrs. Forrester ever make known to her husband the history of her first unfortunate marriage?”
“I believe not. Certainly not that I am aware of. It was a matter I did not choose to interfere in beyond giving her a word or so of advice. No man has a right to interfere between husband and wife, you know.”
“He was a base scoundrel,” observed Quirp, “and for such men we should have no pity; one hardly knows what punishment such a fellow deserves.”
“Solitary confinement,” cried Major Smythe. “That’s the way to bring a fellow to his senses. If that doesn’t succeed nothing will.”
“Well, you see,” remarked Quirp, “solitary confinement is so terrible that it cannot be resorted to with safety; after a time it has been found to drive prisoners mad.”
“Drive them mad—eh?”
“Dear me, yes. Didn’t you know that? It is the most fearful of all punishments, and has been tried in the penal prisons of this country and elsewhere. I will give you an account of a prison I visited while this punishment was in operation.
“The prison I am about to speak of was in Philadelphia, to which city an important will case once necessitated my paying a visit. Let me premise here that the solitary system was, at that time at least, practised in American prisons with far more rigour than in English gaols, and sometimes lasted a lifetime, or ended in the madness of the prisoner.”