CHAPTER XXIII.
MACPHERSON'S HOTEL.
Phineas, when he was left alone, found himself greatly at a loss asto what he had better do. He had pledged himself to see Mr. Kennedy,and was not much afraid of encountering personal violence at thehands of that gentleman. But he could think of nothing which he couldwith advantage say to Mr. Kennedy. He knew that Lady Laura would notreturn to her husband. Much as she dreaded such exposure as was nowthreatened, she would not return to Loughlinter to avoid even that.He could not hold out any such hope to Mr. Kennedy;--and withoutdoing so how could he stop the publication? He thought of gettingan injunction from the Vice-Chancellor;--but it was now Sunday, andhe had understood that the publication would appear on the morrow,unless stopped by some note from himself. He thought of finding someattorney, and taking him to Mr. Kennedy; but he knew that Mr. Kennedywould be deterred by no attorney. Then he thought of Mr. Low. Hewould see Mr. Kennedy first, and then go to Mr. Low's house.
Judd Street runs into the New Road near the great stations of theMidland and Northern Railways, and is a highly respectable street.But it can hardly be called fashionable, as is Piccadilly; orcentral, as is Charing Cross; or commercial, as is the neighbourhoodof St. Paul's. Men seeking the shelter of an hotel in Judd Streetmost probably prefer decent and respectable obscurity to otheradvantages. It was some such feeling, no doubt, joined to the factthat the landlord had originally come from the neighbourhood ofLoughlinter, which had taken Mr. Kennedy to Macpherson's Hotel.Phineas, when he called at about three o'clock on Sunday afternoon,was at once informed by Mrs. Macpherson that Mr. Kennedy was "naedoubt at hame, but was nae willing to see folk on the Saaboth."Phineas pleaded the extreme necessity of his business, allegingthat Mr. Kennedy himself would regard its nature as a sufficientjustification for such Sabbath-breaking,--and sent up his card.Then there came down a message to him. Could not Mr. Finn postponehis visit to the following morning? But Phineas declared that itcould not be postponed. Circumstances, which he would explain toMr. Kennedy, made it impossible. At last he was desired to walk upstairs, though Mrs. Macpherson, as she showed him the way, evidentlythought that her house was profaned by such wickedness.
Macpherson in preparing his house had not run into that extravaganceof architecture which has lately become so common in our hotels.It was simply an ordinary house, with the words "Macpherson'sHotel" painted on a semi-circular board over the doorway. The frontparlour had been converted into a bar, and in the back parlour theMacphersons lived. The staircase was narrow and dirty, and in thefront drawing-room,--with the chamber behind for his bedroom,--Mr.Kennedy was installed. Mr. Macpherson probably did not expect anycustomers beyond those friendly Scots who came up to London from hisown side of the Highlands. Mrs. Macpherson, as she opened the door,was silent and almost mysterious. Such a breach of the law mightperhaps be justified by circumstances of which she knew nothing, butshould receive no sanction from her which she could avoid. So she didnot even whisper the name.
Mr. Kennedy, as Phineas entered, slowly rose from his chair, puttingdown the Bible which had been in his hands. He did not speak at once,but looked at his visitor over the spectacles which he wore. Phineasthought that he was even more haggard in appearance and aged thanwhen they two had met hardly three months since at Loughlinter. Therewas no shaking of hands, and hardly any pretence at greeting. Mr.Kennedy simply bowed his head, and allowed his visitor to begin theconversation.
"I should not have come to you on such a day as this, Mr. Kennedy--"
"It is a day very unfitted for the affairs of the world," said Mr.Kennedy.
"Had not the matter been most pressing in regard both to time and itsown importance."
"So the woman told me, and therefore I have consented to see you."
"You know a man of the name of--Slide, Mr. Kennedy?" Mr. Kennedyshook his head. "You know the editor of the People's Banner?" Againhe shook his head. "You have, at any rate, written a letter forpublication to that newspaper."
"Need I consult you as to what I write?"
"But he,--the editor,--has consulted me."
"I can have nothing to do with that."
"This Mr. Slide, the editor of the People's Banner, has just beenwith me, having in his hand a printed letter from you, which,--youwill excuse me, Mr. Kennedy,--is very libellous."
"I will bear the responsibility of that."
"But you would not wish to publish falsehood about your wife, or evenabout me."
"Falsehood! sir; how dare you use that word to me? Is it false to saythat she has left my house? Is it false to say that she is my wife,and cannot desert me, as she has done, without breaking her vows, anddisregarding the laws both of God and man? Am I false when I say thatI gave her no cause? Am I false when I offer to take her back, lether faults be what they may have been? Am I false when I say that herfather acts illegally in detaining her? False! False in your teeth!Falsehood is villany, and it is not I that am the villain."
"You have joined my name in the accusation."
"Because you are her paramour. I know you now;--viper that was warmedin my bosom! Will you look me in the face and tell me that, hadit not been for you, she would not have strayed from me?" To thisPhineas could make no answer. "Is it not true that when she went withme to the altar you had been her lover?"
"I was her lover no longer, when she once told me that she was to beyour wife."
"Has she never spoken to you of love since? Did she not warn you fromthe house in her faint struggle after virtue? Did she not whistle youback again when she found the struggle too much for her? When I askedyou to the house, she bade you not come. When I desired that youmight never darken my eyes again, did she not seek you? With whom wasshe walking on the villa grounds by the river banks when she resolvedthat she would leave all her duties and desert me? Will you dareto say that you were not then in her confidence? With whom was shetalking when she had the effrontery to come and meet me at the houseof the Prime Minister, which I was bound to attend? Have you not beenwith her this very winter in her foreign home?"
"Of course I have,--and you sent her a message by me."
"I sent no message. I deny it. I refused to be an accomplice in yourdouble guilt. I laid my command upon you that you should not visit mywife in my absence, and you disobeyed, and you are an adulterer. Whoare you that you are to come for ever between me and my wife?"
"I never injured you in thought or deed. I come to you now because Ihave seen a printed letter which contains a gross libel upon myself."
"It is printed then?" he asked, in an eager tone.
"It is printed; but it need not, therefore, be published. It is alibel, and should not be published. I shall be forced to seek redressat law. You cannot hope to regain your wife by publishing falseaccusations against her."
"They are true. I can prove every word that I have written. She darenot come here, and submit herself to the laws of her country. She isa renegade from the law, and you abet her in her sin. But it is notvengeance that I seek. 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.'"
"It looks like vengeance, Mr. Kennedy."
"Is it for you to teach me how I shall bear myself in this time of mygreat trouble?" Then suddenly he changed; his voice falling from oneof haughty defiance to a low, mean, bargaining whisper. "But I'lltell you what I'll do. If you will say that she shall come back againI'll have it cancelled, and pay all the expenses."
"I cannot bring her back to you."
"She'll come if you tell her. If you'll let them understand that shemust come they'll give way. You can try it at any rate."
"I shall do nothing of the kind. Why should I ask her to submitherself to misery?"
"Misery! What misery? Why should she be miserable? Must a woman needbe miserable because she lives with her husband? You hear me say thatI will forgive everything. Even she will not doubt me when I say so,because I have never lied to her. Let her come back to me, and sheshall live in peace and quiet, and hear no word of reproach."
"I can have n
othing to do with it, Mr. Kennedy."
"Then, sir, you shall abide my wrath." With that he sprang quicklyround, grasping at something which lay upon a shelf near him, andPhineas saw that he was armed with a pistol. Phineas, who hadhitherto been seated, leaped to his legs; but the pistol in a momentwas at his head, and the madman pulled at the trigger. But themechanism of the instrument required that some bolt should be loosedbefore the hammer would fall upon the nipple, and the unhandy wretchfor an instant fumbled over the work so that Phineas, still facinghis enemy, had time to leap backwards towards the door. But Kennedy,though he was awkward, still succeeded in firing before our friendcould leave the room. Phineas heard the thud of the bullet, and knewthat it must have passed near his head. He was not struck, however;and the man, frightened at his own deed, abstained from the secondshot, or loitered long enough in his remorse to enable his prey toescape. With three or four steps Phineas leaped down the stairs, and,finding the front door closed, took shelter within Mrs. Macpherson'sbar. "The man is mad," he said; "did you not hear the shot?" Thewoman was too frightened to reply, but stood trembling, holdingPhineas by the arm. There was nobody in the house, she said, butshe and the two lasses. "Nae doobt the Laird's by ordinaire," shesaid at last. She had known of the pistol; but had not dared to haveit removed. She and Macpherson had only feared that he would hurthimself,--and had at last agreed, as day after day passed without anyinjury from the weapon, to let the thing remain unnoticed. She hadheard the shot, and had been sure that one of the two men above wouldhave been killed.
"Then, sir, you shall abide my wrath."]
Phineas was now in great doubt as to what duty was required of him.His first difficulty consisted in this,--that his hat was still inMr. Kennedy's room, and that Mrs. Macpherson altogether refused to goand fetch it. While they were still discussing this, and Phineas hadnot as yet resolved whether he would first get a policeman or go atonce to Mr. Low, the bell from the room was rung furiously. "It'sthe Laird," said Mrs. Macpherson, "and if naebody waits on him he'llsurely be shooting ane of us." The two girls were now outside the barshaking in their shoes, and evidently unwilling to face the danger.At last the door of the room above was opened, and our hero's hat wassent rolling down the stairs.
It was clear to Phineas that the man was so mad as to be not evenaware of the act he had perpetrated. "He'll do nothing more with thepistol," he said, "unless he should attempt to destroy himself." Atlast it was determined that one of the girls should be sent to fetchMacpherson home from the Scotch Church, and that no applicationshould be made at once to the police. It seemed that the Macphersonsknew the circumstances of their guest's family, and that there was acousin of his in London who was the only one with whom he seemed tohave any near connection. The thing that had occurred was to be toldto this cousin, and Phineas left his address, so that if it should bethought necessary he might be called upon to give his account of theaffair. Then, in his perturbation of spirit, he asked for a glass ofbrandy; and having swallowed it, was about to take his leave. "Thebrandy wull be saxpence, sir," said Mrs. Macpherson, as she wiped thetears from her eyes.
Having paid for his refreshment, Phineas got into a cab, and hadhimself driven to Mr. Low's house. He had escaped from his peril,and now again it became his strongest object to stop the publicationof the letter which Slide had shown him. But as he sat in the cabhe could not hinder himself from shuddering at the danger which hadbeen so near to him. He remembered his sensation as he first saw theglimmer of the barrel of the pistol, and then became aware of theman's first futile attempt, and afterwards saw the flash and heardthe hammer fall at the same moment. He had once stood up to be firedat in a duel, and had been struck by the ball. But nothing in thatencounter had made him feel sick and faint through every muscle ashe had felt just now. As he sat in the cab he was aware that but forthe spirits he had swallowed he would be altogether overcome, andhe doubted even now whether he would be able to tell his story toMr. Low. Luckily perhaps for him neither Mr. Low nor his wife wereat home. They were out together, but were expected in between fiveand six. Phineas declared his purpose of waiting for them, andrequested that Mr. Low might be asked to join him in the dining-roomimmediately on his return. In this way an hour was allowed him, andhe endeavoured to compose himself. Still, even at the end of thehour, his heart was beating so violently that he could hardly controlthe motion of his own limbs. "Low, I have been shot at by a madman,"he said, as soon as his friend entered the room. He had determined tobe calm, and to speak much more of the document in the editor's handsthan of the attempt which had been made on his own life; but he hadbeen utterly unable to repress the exclamation.
"Shot at?"
"Yes; by Robert Kennedy; the man who was Chancellor of theDuchy;--almost within a yard of my head." Then he sat down and burstout into a fit of convulsive laughter.
The story about the pistol was soon told, and Mr. Low was of opinionthat Phineas should not have left the place without calling inpolicemen and giving an account to them of the transaction. "ButI had something else on my mind," said Phineas, "which made itnecessary that I should see you at once;--something more importanteven than this madman's attack upon me. He has written a mostfoul-mouthed attack upon his wife, which is already in print, andwill I fear be published to-morrow morning." Then he told the storyof the letter. "Slide no doubt will be at the People's Banneroffice to-night, and I can see him there. Perhaps when I tellhim what has occurred he will consent to drop the publicationaltogether."
But in this view of the matter Mr. Low did not agree with hisvisitor. He argued the case with a deliberation which to Phineas inhis present state of mind was almost painful. If the whole story ofwhat had occurred were told to Quintus Slide, that worthy protectorof morals and caterer for the amusement of the public would, Mr.Low thought, at once publish the letter and give a statement of theoccurrence at Macpherson's Hotel. There would be nothing to hinderhim from so profitable a proceeding, as he would know that no onewould stir on behalf of Lady Laura in the matter of the libel, whenthe tragedy of Mr. Kennedy's madness should have been made known. Thepublication would be as safe as attractive. But if Phineas shouldabstain from going to him at all, the same calculation which hadinduced him to show the letter would induce him to postpone thepublication, at any rate for another twenty-four hours. "He meansto make capital out of his virtue; and he won't give that up forthe sake of being a day in advance. In the meantime we will get aninjunction from the Vice-Chancellor to stop the publication."
"Can we do that in one day?"
"I think we can. Chancery isn't what it used to be," said Mr. Low,with a sigh. "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll go this very momentto Pickering." Mr. Pickering at this time was one of the threeVice-Chancellors. "It isn't exactly the proper thing for counselto call on a judge on a Sunday afternoon with the direct intentionof influencing his judgment for the following morning; but thisis a case in which a point may be strained. When such a paper asthe People's Banner gets hold of a letter from a madman, whichif published would destroy the happiness of a whole family, oneshouldn't stick at a trifle. Pickering is just the man to take acommon-sense view of the matter. You'll have to make an affidavitin the morning, and we can get the injunction served before two orthree o'clock. Mr. Septimus Slope, or whatever his name is, won'tdare to publish it after that. Of course, if it comes out to-morrowmorning, we shall have been too late; but this will be our bestchance." So Mr. Low got his hat and umbrella, and started for theVice-Chancellor's house. "And I tell you what, Phineas;--do you stayand dine here. You are so flurried by all this, that you are not fitto go anywhere else."
"I am flurried."
"Of course you are. Never mind about dressing. Do you go up and tellGeorgiana all about it;--and have dinner put off half-an-hour. I musthunt Pickering up, if I don't find him at home." Then Phineas didgo upstairs and tell Georgiana--otherwise Mrs. Low--the whole story.Mrs. Low was deeply affected, declaring her opinion very strongly asto the horrible condition of things, when madmen could go
about withpistols, and without anybody to take care against them. But as toLady Laura Kennedy, she seemed to think that the poor husband hadgreat cause of complaint, and that Lady Laura ought to be punished.Wives, she thought, should never leave their husbands on any pretext;and, as far as she had heard the story, there had been no pretext atall in the case. Her sympathies were clearly with the madman, thoughshe was quite ready to acknowledge that any and every step should betaken which might be adverse to Mr. Quintus Slide.
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