The Mysteries of London (Vol. 1-4). George W. M. Reynolds
"What mean you?" inquired Diana: "to which institution do you allude?"
"To the General Post-office," replied the Earl of Warrington.
"The General Post-office!" cried Mrs. Arlington, her countenance expressing the most profound astonishment.
"The General Post-office," repeated the earl. "But this is a matter of so serious a nature that I shall not allow it to rest here. You will lend me these letters for a few hours? I am more intimately acquainted with the Home Secretary than with any other of her Majesty's Ministers; and to him will I now proceed."
The earl consigned the letters to his pocket, and, with an air of deep determination, took a temporary leave of Mrs. Arlington.
Scarcely had the earl left the house, when Mr. Greenwood's valet, Filippo, was introduced.
"I have called, madam," said the Italian, "to inform you that I last night counteracted another of my master's plots, and saved a young female from the persecution of his addresses."
"You have done well, Filippo," exclaimed Mrs. Arlington. "Does your master suspect you?"
"Not in the remotest degree, madam. I contrived matters so well, that he believed the young person alluded to had escaped by her own means, and without any assistance, save that of a pair of sheets which enabled her to descend in safety from the window of the room in which she was confined."
"I am delighted to hear that your mission to England has been so successful, in thwarting the machinations of that bad man," observed Mrs. Arlington. "Have you heard any news from Castelcicala?"
"I have this morning received a Montoni newspaper, announcing the nuptials of the Grand Duke and the Marchioness of Ziani," replied Filippo.
"And I also have heard those happy tidings," said Mrs. Arlington. "But have you any further information to give me relative to the schemes of your master? I am always pleased to learn that his evil designs experience defeat through your agency."
"I have nothing more to say at present, madam," answered Filippo; "except, indeed," he added, suddenly recollecting himself, "that I overheard, a few days ago, a warm contention between my master and a certain Sir Rupert Harborough."
"Sir Rupert Harborough!" ejaculated Diana, a blush suddenly overspreading her cheeks.
"Yes, madam. From what I could learn, there was a balance of about a thousand pounds due from Sir Rupert Harborough to Mr. Greenwood, on a bill that purported to be the acceptance of Lord Tremordyn, but which was in reality a forgery committed by Sir Rupert himself."
"A forgery!" cried Diana.
"A forgery, madam. Sir Rupert bitterly reproached Mr. Greenwood with having suggested to him that mode of raising money, whereas Mr. Greenwood appeared to deny with indignation any share in the part of the transaction imputed to him. The matter ended by Mr. Greenwood declaring that if the bill were not paid to-morrow, when it falls due (having, it appears, been renewed several times), Sir Rupert Harborough should be prosecuted for forgery."
"And what said Sir Rupert Harborough to that?" inquired Diana.
"He changed his tone, and began to implore the mercy of Mr. Greenwood: but my master was inexorable; and Sir Rupert left the house with ruin and terror depicted upon his countenance."
"This battle you must allow them to fight out between themselves," said Diana, after a moment's hesitation. "I know Sir Rupert Harborough—know him full well; but I do not think that he is so thoroughly black-hearted as your master. He was once kind to me—once," she added, musing to herself rather than addressing the Italian valet: then, suddenly recollecting herself, she said, "However, Filippo—that affair does not regard you."
"Very good, madam," replied the valet; and he then took his departure.
The moment he was gone, Mrs. Arlington threw herself into her comfortable arm-chair, and became wrapt up in deep thought.
CHAPTER XCIV.
THE HOME OFFICE.
IN a well furnished room, on the first-floor of the Home Office, sate the Secretary of State for that Department.
The room was spacious and lofty. The walls were hung with the portraits of several eminent statesmen who had, at different times, presided over the internal policy of the country. A round table stood in the middle of the apartment; and at this table, which groaned beneath a mass of papers, was seated the Minister.
At the feet of this functionary was a wicker basket, into which he threw the greater portion of the letters addressed to him, and over each of which he cast a glance of such rapidity that he must either have been a wonderfully clever man to acquire a notion of the contents of those documents by means of so superficial a survey, or else a very neglectful one to pay so little attention to affairs which were associated with important individual interests or which related to matters of national concern.
The time-piece upon the mantel struck twelve, when a low knock at the door of the apartment elicited from the Minister an invitation to enter.
A tall, thin, middle-aged, sallow-faced person, dressed in black, glided noiselessly into the room, bowed obsequiously to the Minister, and took his seat at the round table.
This was the Minister's private secretary.
The secretary immediately mended a pen, arranged his blotting-paper in a business-like fashion before him, spread out his foolscap writing paper, and then glanced towards his master, at much as to say, "I am ready."
"Take that pile of correspondence, if you please," said the Minister, "and run your eye over each letter."
"Yes, my lord," said the Secretary; and he glanced cursorily over the letters alluded to, one after the other, briefly mentioning their respective objects as he proceeded. "This letter, my lord, is from the chaplain of Newgate. It sets forth that there is a man of the name of William Lees at present under sentence of death in that prison; that William Lees, in a fit of unbridled passion, which bordered upon insanity, murdered his wife; that the conduct of the deceased was sufficient to provoke the most temperate individual to a similar deed; that he had no interest in killing her; and that he committed the crime in a moment over which he had no control."
"Do you remember anything of the case?" demanded the Home Secretary. "For my part, I have no time to read trials."
"Yes, my lord," replied the Secretary. "This William Lees is a barber; and his wife was of vile and most intemperate habits. He murdered her in a fit of exasperation caused by the discovery that she had pledged every thing moveable in the house, to obtain the means of buying drink."
"Oh! a barber—eh?" said the Home Secretary, yawning.
"Yes, my lord. Your lordship will remember that young Medhurst, who assassinated a school-fellow in a fit of passion, was only condemned to three years' imprisonment."
"Ah! but that was quite a different thing," exclaimed the Minister. "Medhurst was a gentleman; but this man is only a barber."
"True, my lord—very true," said the Secretary. "I had quite forgotten that."
"Make a memorandum, that the law in the case of William Lees must take its course."
"Yes, my lord;"—and the Secretary, having endorsed the note upon the letter, referred to another document. "This, my lord, is a petition from a political prisoner confined in a county gaol, and who sets forth that he is compelled to wear the prison dress, associate with felons of the blackest character, and eat the prison allowance. He humbly submits—"
"He may submit till he is tired," interrupted the Minister. "Make a memorandum to answer the petition to the effect that her Majesty's Secretary of State for the Home Department does not see any ground for interfering in the matter."