Part 11

When he came out of the gaol, like a blackguard as he was, he said to me, "You must not let the case go off at the next examination, because both you and I ought to have some costs out of it." With difficulty I was prevented grasping the fellow by the throat. I did, however, suppress my loathing and indignation, and played the hypocrite with him sufficiently to suggest that it would be a good thing if we could get her off at once. There would be more credit attaching to us, I argued, than if the magistrate should commit the girl at the next examination for trial, and some ranting barrister of the Old-Bailey school got her off, and obtained all the merit. As to costs, I suggested that most likely some arrangement could be made for a fixed sum, so that he might earn as much by a successful defence at the next magistrates' meeting as at the sessions. These arguments had their weight with the attorney, and he soon coincided with me in thinking that we had better bring the case to as speedy a termination as we could.

At the suggestion of Mr. Green's own private attorney, I took a note of introduction to him at his house, with a view of consulting him directly on the facts of this case.

I was immediately shown into the library, where I found the merchant and his wife talking; and I was led into the drawing-room by Mr. Green, as I thought for the purpose of making a demonstration or producing an effect upon me.

We left Mrs. Green in the library. As Mr. Green, in the drawing-room, began to relate to me his conviction of the girl's guilt, my eye rested upon a splendid piano, the lid of which was closed, and, as I afterwards found, fastened, but jammed in which I thought I saw the corner of a note.

Here, I said to myself, is a clue. Something has been concealed in that piano for the purpose, I dare say, of removal to the pawnbroker's, or assayer's, hereafter. In imagination I dimly perceived, through the walnut-tree lid of the piano, something wrapped in that envelope of which a corner was palpably visible.

I did not venture to disclose my thoughts at once to Mr. Green. I did not know what effect any surprise might have upon him. I did not know that he might not spoil my game by some indiscretion on his part, if abruptly let into an explanation, &c. I let him talk, and I talked; but I thought also none the less.

Thus I mused as we chatted. Could that be a corner of an envelope, or was it a stray fragment of paper? It might or it might not be a clue. It might be nothing, after all, but an accidental bit of paper; or perhaps one of Mrs. Green's domestic accounts, laid there by her thoughtlessness.

No, it was a clue. It might not be a trinket. It might be a letter. I was perplexed and tantalised, and even, let me confess it, impatient to get that piano unlocked.

But Mr. Green might he seek to destroy the clue, in order to make good his consistency, if it led, as I had no doubt it would, in a contrary direction to that his suspicions had taken?

Towards the end of the interview we had this conversation: "Can you, sir, bear any sudden revelation touching this matter, which may, perhaps, show that you are wrong in your suspicions?" I asked.

"Sir," said Mr. Green, "I am an honest and upright man. I don't think I am wrong; but if you can show me that I am wrong, I am the man to confess so, and to make every reparation in my power."

"No doubt, sir; but you must pardon my caution. Gentlemen when surprised are not always so discreet as on ordinary occasions; and it must be an unpleasant thing to feel that you have been made a party to the punishment of an innocent person for a thief's crime."

Mr. Green had before this seriously looked at the possibility of its turning out that his servant had been injured by him. He had comforted himself by the notion that, as he had acted _bonâ fide_, no great blame could attach to him; and if such discovery were made, he had determined to pursue the honourable course of restoring the injured girl, as far as he could, to her place in society. He assured me again of that fact.

"Then," I continued, "you will place yourself entirely in my hands pending this investigation. I shall ask you to let me search this house from top to bottom, and in every nook and cranny."

Mr. Green scarcely liked that. I somewhat surprised him, and threw him for a moment in embarrassment.

"I hardly think that necessary," he said.

"I do," I said; "and you know I have had much experience. I am afraid that time enough has been already given for the destruction of some traces of guilt; but I am sure that every hour facilitates the destruction of others."

"As you will, then, sir," said the merchant.

"Then I will again ask you to fortify yourself against the discovery of any thing surprising; to act with reserve; and I would implore you not to get up a scene in my presence. If the lad or your other female servant should, as the result of my investigations, be hunted down this evening, I shall ask you to take no steps for his or her punishment, or until you have had time for reflection. In the mean time, I will take care of the proofs."

"Be it so, then, sir."

"I propose to begin the search in this room, as we are here."

"Yes, sir."

I stepped to the piano, and was about raising the lid, which, of course, did not open at my desire.

"Have you the key of this piano?"

"No; my wife has it. You had better ask Mrs. Green for it, sir."

He called his wife in.

"My dear," he said, "this gentleman is a private detective. I have told him that we are anxious for the fullest investigation, and shall be glad, indeed, if your servant in custody can be found innocent, although I feel that is totally impossible. Still he thinks he will be able to get some evidence that will divert suspicion from Eliza to one of the other servants."

"Well," observed Mrs. Green, "it is an unpleasant thing to have one's house pulled about in this way; but I suppose it cannot be avoided."

I nodded assent to the lady's speech.

"Will you let me have the key of this piano?" I inquired.

"The piano, sir!" she said falteringly. "That is my piano. What do you require the key of _that_ for?" And the colour came and went from her olive countenance, in a way that told me I had discovered the real thief in the merchant's wife.

A train of thought passed through my mind as rapidly as messages are conveyed by the harnessed lightning over house-tops, beneath the solid earth, or under the sea. This was a curious little instance of kleptomania. The poor wife's morbid secretiveness, acquisitiveness, or whatever a phrenologist might call "the organ," was in large excess. I pitied her. Could I here abandon the search, and leave the poor lady's crime a mystery, or an undetected fact? No; that would not do. She, at least, had permitted the servant, my client, to be accused. I knew the depth of woman's cunning. I know how tenaciously one will cling to the outward forms of respectability and of virtue. I know how horribly unscrupulous a criminal at bay, with the chance of setting the dogs of the law on the wrong scent, could be. To relax in my vigilance would be fatal to my innocent client, whose late mistress, the real thief, would forge other proofs of the guilt of the guiltless.

Why did I reason to myself thus? Does not innocence tremble, and lose its self-possession under the remotest suspicion of an offence? Does not guilt, as a rule, maintain its self-possession, and look with a bold front upon the perils of its situation? Yes. Ordinarily I see in embarrassment an indication, not of guilt, but of innocence. But in Mrs. Green's case there was a firmness with the embarrassment; there was an expression which I cannot describe in words. There was a dread of me visible in the attempt to hide that fear. There was an indescribable _something_, which operated on my mind as moral evidence.

"I won't press for the key, madam, if you are unwilling to let me have it."

"I am unwilling only, sir, because I think it an impudent request."

"Madam," I replied, "no request can be impudent which is explained by the fact that I am collecting evidence to rescue innocence from ruin and shame."

"I shall not give you the key of my piano."

"Again, madam, I say I will not press you for it; but I will state, in the presence of your husband, that I think it necessary to know what is contained in that piece of furniture."

Mr. Green was thunderstruck, and bewildered to the verge of insanity. A light dawned upon his mind, of which I was then unconscious. He recollected, as he shortly after told me, that not a week before, having entered the drawing-room, in order to meet his wife, on his return from the City about half an hour before his usual time, he found her sitting by the piano. She heavily closed the lid of it as he opened the door.

It was a minute or two after this light dawned upon him before he recovered his self-possession enough to open his mouth.

His first silent inquiry then was how to save his own humiliation by covering his wife's disgrace; but this desire mingled with indignation and disgust that she, so well provided for--even to the matter of pin-money--should rob her own home. It was, he argued, criminal insanity. Yet he must dissemble, and baffle me if he could, he thought.

"I don't see what you want to open my wife's piano for, or why you can wish to inspect the piece of paper, if it be a piece of paper, you see, which I am not certain about."

"Mr. Green," I said solemnly, "I shall insist upon opening that piano. I shall break it open if the key is not given me. I have a trust reposed in me, than which nothing can be more solemn or stern. It is my habit, sir, to do my duty; and in the present case no earthly consideration of profit or reward would induce me to forego the slightest clue to the vindication of the woman whose fate, I may say, is in my hands."

The situation was a very awkward one for all parties.

I thought the better plan would be to take upon myself the first action, and thus relieve Mrs. Green from any further refusal to produce the key, by taking from my pocket a small instrument sufficiently powerful to break the lock. I did this, and neither husband nor wife ventured to resist me.

As I lifted the lid a letter became visible. Mrs. Green snatched at it, endeavouring to grasp it off the key-board of the instrument.

I had anticipated such an act on her part, and, as she felt the resistance of my right arm, I took it with my left hand.

"That is a letter of mine, sir."

"It may be, madam; but I must know the contents."

"Do you allow that?" she inquired of her husband.

"I am entitled," he said, "to my wife's letters. They are surely not your property, but mine."

"I have no dispute, sir, about the property in the letter; but its contents, I suspect, belong to an unfortunate young woman now lying in prison on a charge of which I take her to be as guiltless as you are."

"I don't know how you propose to make that out," said the wife.

"Nor do I, in frankness I may admit," was my rejoinder, "yet _know_; but I think this letter will help me to the solution of the whole mystery of the case."

Again it appeared to me that I must extricate the merchant and his wife from momentary difficulty by some action on my part.

"I shall," I said, "keep this letter until next Monday, when, if you insist upon it, it shall be handed over to the magistrate; but, in strictness, I must say I think I ought to read it at once, and, if I afterwards see fit, hand it over to the prisoner's attorney."

"I don't," said Mr. Green. "You must give it up to me."

His wife also vehemently claimed it.

"With all respect to you, sir, and to you, madam, I shall take the responsibility of detaining it."

The husband, who all this while had been a prey to intensely painful emotion, then desired his wife to leave us alone, saying that he would manage me; and, after considerable hesitation, she did so. As she left the room I thought I could distinctly trace, in the lines of that pretty countenance, the external signs of a mind racked with the agony of crime.

When she had left, I took a chair, and Mr. Green did the same.

"This letter, sir," I said, "may be an ordinary one, containing nothing that can affect the unfortunate prisoner's case; and if so I shall be perfectly prepared to hand it over to you at once; but I shall now ask, if you please, as a matter of courtesy, to permit me to read it."

"A letter of my wife's, sir!"

"Yes, a letter of your wife's; and I can promise you no secrecy about its contents until I know what they are. If these contents be not essential to the interests of the prisoner, and do not call for its use, whatever be the secret this letter embodies, no living soul will get the least idea of that secret from me. If, on the other hand, it will furnish a material link in the evidence of that unfortunate girl's innocence, no considerations, no regard to the position, circumstances, or happiness of you, will induce me to abstain from using it in a way to secure her liberation."

"I think you should let me read it first," said the husband, in terror.

"You must allow me to reverse the order of perusal. _I_ must read it first."

Mr. Green rose and paced the room. I sat musing, and observing him. At last he turned, and said,

"I know I can rely upon your judgment sir." He sat down beside me. I read the letter in tones loud enough for him to hear, but let no sentence or word of it pass through the keyhole of that drawing-room door.

We drew our chairs closer together as I read the letter. It was addressed to the merchant's wife, in the handwriting of the party with whom the prior attachment of her heart had been contracted,--from whom it had never been severed. She had in vain sought to wean her affections from him as soon as she received the proposal from her present husband; but it was useless. Cold, cynical, calculating, as she had been rendered by stern experience, there was yet in her breast sufficient of that element of human love to bind the attachment of her purer days. She did not muster courage for a long while to apprise the lover of her intended marriage. When she did so, he received it with what he called "philosophical resignation." He professed to resign her, and no doubt did resign her, to what he said and conceived would be "a more satisfactory marriage." It was, however, agreed between the lovers that their acquaintance should continue on the basis of friendship; but neither of them being led by high and lofty sentiment, being indeed both of a somewhat inferior nature, they were incapable of maintaining that cold relationship which even better minds might have found it no easy task to preserve in its frigid integrity. The attachment of friendship ripened into criminal love before the merchant took the lady to the altar. That criminal relationship continued after marriage. Misfortune fell upon the lover nearly as soon as good fortune was realised by the woman intended for his wife, who had become the wife of another. He applied to her to assist him with her purse. She did this with all she could obtain from her husband--saved from domestic outlay. The demands upon the wife from this source, however, increased with her freedom or desire to satisfy them. Money, easily and ill-gotten by the paramour from his mistress, was lightly spent. What had been asked for in the first instance in tones of humble supplication, was ere long demanded under threats of exposure.

The letter taken from the piano demanded the sum of 10_l._, in order that the writer might satisfy what he was pleased to call "a debt of honour" within three days. He must, he said, have the money, and he would have it. The wretch had the brutal audacity to say to this unfortunate woman in his power, "You have more to suffer by exposure than I have; and look out, if you don't let me have the money." This amount the wretched woman could not procure. She had about a week previously supplied him with a like sum, and his demands upon her had of late been so heavy that she had been in daily apprehension her husband would discover the malversation of the funds he had supplied her with to keep his house. Bills which she professed to have paid remained unsatisfied. Several hundreds of pounds had been diverted from their legitimate application. She had, therefore, on this occasion, as she had done on some other occasions when similarly situated, given him the material by which, through the pawnbroker, or in some such mode, he might raise the money he required for his unhallowed purposes; and be once more extracted, through his criminal hold over the mind, conscience, and body of the wife, the cash to expend in debauchery. The watch and chain, and some other trinkets, had been given by the wife to her paramour, and by him disposed of.

The effect which this letter produced upon the merchant may be more easily conceived than described. It is enough to say that this tolerably strong-minded man, who had so well played his part throughout the interview I have at such length described, here broke down, completely unnerved. He put himself under my guidance, and quitted the house with me that evening, leaving Mrs. Green therein--alone.

Mr. Green and I had a meeting on the following day at the office of his solicitor, to whom I handed a copy of the letter; and I also supplied a copy to the attorney for the prisoner. It was arranged between Mr. Green's solicitor and his client that a person should be sent up to take immediate possession of the house at Kentish Town, which he had evacuated on the previous night.

The man, on his arrival there, discovered that Mrs. Green had fled. She took her departure early that morning. She left no article behind that was easy of removal. A somewhat extensive wardrobe was packed in boxes. All the articles of jewelry, that were easily convertible into money, she also took. Mr. Green had, at my suggestion, left her ten cheques, drawn upon his private bankers, for 5_l._ each, and each post-dated seven days apart. These, of course, she took with her. She left no address behind her. She took neither of the servants for companionship. Whither she had gone to nobody knew, nor did I care.

There was a meeting between the solicitor for the prosecutor and the solicitor for the prisoner--in confidence, and without prejudice.

Communications were, under this shield, freely exchanged. The poor girl was told that an application would be made for her release, when next taken before the magistrate, under circumstances that would be afterwards explained to her. She was further informed that her master was confident of her innocence; that the guilty person had been traced, but would not be prosecuted. For the injury she had received at his hands, which he was sorry to confess was the consequence of his rash impulses, he asked her forgiveness, which she readily granted him.

At the next examination before the magistrate the prosecutor's solicitor, who appeared for the first time, said that the case had been investigated since the former meeting, and that he would ask his worship's permission to be allowed to withdraw from the prosecution. The magistrate at once turned to the prisoner's solicitor, asked whether he had any objection to that course, and received for reply that his client had no objection to her release without conditions.

The poor girl was accordingly liberated, and taken away under the care of a relative, in whose hands means were placed for her immediate comfortable provision. Mr. Green provided those means.

Of Mrs. Green I have since heard. Indeed I had another engagement to trace her, the clue to which was furnished by herself. She employed an attorney about two months after her flight from Kentish Town, who waited upon the private solicitor of her husband, and implored him, on the ground of humanity, to let her have money. The advocate begged him to think of the discredit that would attach to Mr. Green if the woman who bore his name were reduced to distress, absolute privation, and perhaps the workhouse. After several consultations with his solicitor, Mr. Green declined to allow any thing. He professed a total unconcern as to what became of the worthless woman; and in reply to a menace, then delicately put forward or hinted by her legal adviser, that she would be a source of annoyance to her husband, Mr. Green's solicitor informed his professional friend that his client would not scruple to hand her over to the police if she did so. So ended the negotiation.

Some time had rolled away since the liberation of the prisoner. Mr. Green continued to take considerable interest in her welfare. He frequently visited the residence of her aunt, at Camberwell, and betrayed an almost tender solicitude about the girl. In fact tender is the right part of speech to use as the qualification of solicitude in this case.

The merchant called upon his solicitor one day, and had a long conference with him. Without taking the reader through from the beginning to the end of that private conference, I may inform him that Mr. Green was determined that Sir Cresswell Cresswell should rend asunder the bonds which had been forged by Hymen or the Church-of-England minister, if legal evidence of the infidelity of his wife could be produced, and he imagined there would be very little trouble in getting it. The letter which had been discovered in the piano would of course be very important, but was not sufficient in itself.

I was accordingly employed, and following up such traces as I apprehended would lead me on her track. I was not a great while before I discovered that Mrs. Green had become "one more unfortunate" parading Waterloo Place every night, at present decked in the garments which Mr. Green, her husband, had purchased; and I further learnt that, out of the proceeds of her sin, she was maintaining "the prior attachment."

When all this evidence had been collected and laid before Dr. Jinks, a very accomplished lawyer, as I have seen cause to know, who practises in the court till recently presided over so ably by Sir Cresswell Cresswell; and when his opinion had been written upon "a case," to the effect that there was no doubt the court would grant Mr. Green a divorce from his adulterous wife,--that gentleman called upon Eliza's aunt, and explained to her that he felt bound to mark at once his sense of the merit and virtues of her niece, and his desire to make the amplest reparation in his power for the injuries inflicted upon her, by offering to place her in the position of her late mistress as soon as the legal ceremonies clearing the way had been effected.

The court readily granted a divorce. The opposition on the wife's part was but a sham resistance. It was an attorney's defence, that would never have been made if the law, in its kindly regard for woman under all circumstances, had not allowed her, although demoralised, to dip her hands in an injured husband's pocket for the costs of any pretended resistance to his prayer, as well as for alimony during the litigation. As soon as Mr. Green issued his citation, he had to allow his wife at the rate of 600_l._ per annum until he got his decree for a dissolution of the marriage, and he had also to pay her attorney 150_l._ 4_s._ 6_d._

These moneys being paid, and these processes having been gone through, and after further waiting the time prescribed by law for the other side--that is, for Mrs. Green--to appeal against the court's decision, no such appeal having been attempted, the adulterous woman was no longer entitled to the use of the merchant's name; she ceased to be, in the eye of the law, in any respect his wife; and Eliza became Mrs. Green, under the sanction of law and of the Established Church of England.

THE VIRTUE OF AN AMERICAN PASSPORT.