The Orange Girl

by Walter Besant

  CHAPTER X

  THE SAME OFFER

  Thus I passed that weary and anxious imprisonment. The way of gettingthrough the day was always the same. Soon after daylight, I went out andwalked in the yards for half an hour. The early morning, indeed, was theonly time of the day when a man of decent manners could venture abroadeven on the State side. At that time the visitors had not yet begun toarrive; the men were still sleeping off their carouse of the eveningbefore; only a few wretches to whom a dismal foreboding of the future, aguilty conscience, an aching heart, would not allow sleep, creptdolefully about the empty yards; restlessly sitting or standing: if theyspoke to each other, it was with distracted words showing that they knewnot what they said. Alas! The drunken orgies of the others caused themat least some relief from the terrible sufferings of remorse and lookingforward. It is not often that one can find an excuse for drunkenness.

  After this melancholy walk I returned to my cell where I played for anhour or two, afterwards reading or meditating. But always my thoughtsturned to the impending trial. I represented myself called upon to makemy own defence: I read it aloud: I failed to impress the Jury: the Judgesummed up: the Jury retired: cold beads stood upon my forehead: Itrembled: I shook: the verdict was Guilty: the Judge assumed the blackcap--Verily I suffered, every day, despite the assurance of Jenny andMr. Dewberry, all the tortures of one convicted and condemned to death.If my heart were examined after my death sure I am that a black capwould be found engraven upon it, to show the agonies which I endured.

  About one o'clock Alice arrived, sometimes with Tom, sometimes alone.As for Tom he had quickly rallied and had now completely accepted theassurance that an acquittal was certain: his confidence would have beenwonderful but for the consideration that it was not his own neck thatwas in danger but that of his brother-in-law. The child was not allowedto be brought into the prison for fear of the fever which always lurksabout the wards and cells and corridors. In the afternoon, while we weretalking, Jenny herself, when she was not on her mysterious journeys,came wearing a domino. About four o'clock, Tom departed and, a littleafter, Alice. Then I was left alone to sleep and reflection for twelvehours.

  This was the daily routine. On Sunday there was service, in the chapel,made horrid by the condemned prisoners in their pew sitting round theempty coffin: and by the ribaldry and blasphemous jests of the prisonersthemselves. Not even in the chapel could they refrain.

  One afternoon there was a surprise. We were sitting in conversationtogether, Alice and Jenny with my brother-in-law Tom, and myself, whenwe received a visit from no less a person than Mr. Probus himself. ThatPrince of villains had the audacity to call in person upon me. He stoodin the doorway, his long, lean body bent, wearing a smile that hadevidently been borrowed for the occasion. I sprang to my feet withindignation. My arm was gently touched. Jenny sat beside me, but alittle behind.

  'Hush!' she whispered. 'Let him say what he has to say. Sit down. Do notanswer by a single word.'

  Mr. Probus looked disconcerted to see me resume my chair and make as ifI neither saw nor heard.

  'You did not expect, Mr. Halliday, to see me here?'

  I made no reply.

  'I am astonished, I confess, to find myself here, after all that haspassed. Respect for the memory of my late employer and client, Sir PeterHalliday, must be my excuse--my only excuse. Respect, and, if I may bepermitted to add, compassion--compassion, Madam'--he bowed to Alice.

  'Compassion, Sir, is a Christian virtue,' she said, with such emphasison the adjective as to imply astonishment at finding that quality in Mr.Probus.

  'Assuredly, Madam--assuredly, which is the reason why I cultivateit--sometimes to my own loss--my own loss.'

  'Sir,' Alice went on, 'you cannot but be aware that your presence hereis distasteful. Will you be so good as to tell us what you have to say?'

  'Certainly, Madam. I think I have seen you before. You are Mr. WilliamHalliday's wife. This gentleman I have not seen before.'

  'He is my brother.'

  'Your brother--And the lady who prefers to wear a domino?' For Jenny hadmade haste to replace that disguise. 'No doubt it is proper inNewgate--but is it necessary among friends?'

  'This lady is my cousin,' said Alice. 'She will please herself as towhat she wears.'

  'Your cousin. We are therefore, as one may say, a family party. Thedefendant; his wife: his brother-in-law: his cousin. This is very good.This is what I should have desired above all things had I prayed upon myway hither. A family party.'

  'Mr. Probus,' said Alice, 'if this discourse is to continue beware howyou speak of prayers.' Never had I seen her face so set, so full ofrighteous wrath, with so much repression. The man quaked under her eyes.

  'I come to business,' he said. 'I fear there is a spirit of suspicion,even of hostility, abroad. Let that pass. I hope, indeed, to remove it.Now, if you please, give me your attention.'

  He was now the lawyer alert and watchful. 'Your trial, Mr. Halliday,takes place in a short time--a few days. I do not know what defence youwill attempt--I hope you may be successful--I have thought upon thesubject, and, I confess--well--I can only say that I do not know whatkind of defence will be possible in a case so clear and so wellattested.'

  'Hush!' Jenny laid her hand again on my arm. 'Hush!' she whispered.

  I restrained myself and still sat in silence.

  'Let me point out to you--in a moment you will understand why--how youstand. You know, of course, yet it is always well to be clear in one'smind--the principal evidence is that given by those two gentlemen fromthe country, the young squire of Cumberland--or is it Westmoreland?--andthe clergyman of the Sister Kingdom. I have naturally been in frequentcommunication with those two gentlemen. I find that they are both keptin London to the detriment of their own affairs: that they wouldwillingly get the business despatched quickly so that they would befree to go home again: that they bear no malice--none whatever: onebecause he is a clergyman, and therefore practises forgiveness as aChristian duty: the other because he is a gentleman who scorns revenge,and, besides, was not the attacked, but the attacking party. "So far,"says the noble-hearted gentleman, "from desiring to hang the poorwretch, I would willingly suffer him to go at large." This is adisposition of mind which promises a great deal. I have never found amore happy disposition in any witness before. No resentment: no revenge:no desire for a fatal termination to the trial. It is wonderful andrare. So I came over to tell you what they say and to entreat you tomake use of this friendly temper while it lasts. They might--I do notsay they will--but they might be induced to withdraw altogether from thetrial, in which case the prosecution would fall to the ground. For thecase depends wholly upon their evidence. For myself, as you know, Iarrived by accident upon the scene, and was too late to see anything.Mr. Merridew tells me that what he saw might have been a fight ratherthan a robbery; I ought not to have revealed this weak point in theevidence, but I am all for mercy--all for mercy. So I say, that if theirevidence is not forthcoming, the prosecution must fall through, andthen, dear Sir, liberty would be once more your happy lot.' He stoppedand folded his arms.

  I had not offered him a chair partly because he was Mr. Probus and Iwould not suffer him to sit in my presence: partly because there was nochair to offer him.

  'These gentlemen, Sir,' said Tom, 'are willing, we understand, to retirefrom the case.'

  'I would not say willing. I would rather say, not unwilling.'

  'Do they,' Tom asked, 'demand money as a bribe as a price for retiring?'

  'No, Sir. These gentlemen are far above any such consideration. Ibelieve they would be simply contented with such a sum of money as wouldmeet their personal expenses and their losses by this prolonged stay.'

  'And to how much may these losses and expenses, taken together, amount?'

  'I hear that his Reverence has lost a valuable Lectureship which hasbeen given to another in his absence: and that the Squire has sustainedlosses among his cattle and his horses also owing to his absence.'

/>   'And the combined figures, Sir, which would cover these losses?'

  'I cannot say positively. Probably the clergyman's losses would berepresented by L400 and the Squire's by L600. There would be my owncosts in the case as well--but they are--as usual--a trifle.'

  'And suppose we were to pay this money,' Tom continued, 'what should wehave to prove that they would not give their evidence?'

  'Sir--There you touch me on the tenderest point--the "pundonor," as theSpaniards say. You should lodge the money with any person in whom wecould agree as a person of honour--and after the case for theprosecution had broken down--not before--he should give me that money.Observe that on the part of these two simple gentlemen there is trust,even in an attorney--in myself.'

  I said nothing, for as the man knew that I could not find a tenth partof the sum, I knew there was something behind. What it was I guessedvery well. And, in fact, Mr. Probus immediately showed what it was.

  'Mr. Halliday,' he said, 'I believe that I know your circumstances. Ihave on one or two occasions had to make myself acquainted with them. Ishall not give offence if I suppose that you cannot immediately raisethe sum of L1,000 even to save your life.'

  He spoke to me, but he looked at Alice.

  'He cannot, certainly,' said Alice, 'either immediately or in any timeproposed.'

  'Quite so. Now, this is a case of life or death--life or death, Sir:life or death, Madam: an honourable life--a long life for your husband:or a shameful death--a shameful death: shameful to him: shameful to you:shameful to your child or children.'

  'Hush!' whispered Jenny, laying a repressive hand again upon myshoulder, for again I was boiling over with indignation. What! Theauthor and contriver of this shameful death was to come and callattention to the disgrace of which he was the sole cause! Had I beenleft to myself without Alice or Jenny, I would have brained the oldvillain. But I obeyed and sat in silence, answering nothing.

  'Consider, Madam'--he continued to address Alice--'this is not a timefor false pride or for obstinacy, or even for standing out for betterterms. Once more I make the same offer which I made before. Let him sellhis chance of a certain succession of which he knows. Let him do that,and all his difficulties and troubles will vanish like the smoke of abonfire. I tell you plainly, Madam, that I can control the appearance ofthis evidence without which the prosecution can do nothing. I willcontrol it. If he agrees to sell, your husband shall walk out, on theday of the trial, a free man.' He drew out of his pocket a pocket-bookand from that a document which I remembered well--the deed of sale ortransfer.

  Nobody replied. Alice looked at me anxiously. I remained silent anddogged.

  'Two years ago--or somewhere about that time--I made the same proposalto him. I offered him L3,000 down for his share of an estate which mightnever be his--or only after long years--I offered him L3,000 down. Itwas a large sum of money. He refused. A day or two afterwards he foundhimself in the King's Bench Prison. I would recall that coincidence toyou. Four or five weeks ago I made a similar offer. This time I proposedL4,000 down. He refused again, blind to his own interest. A few daysafterwards he found himself within these walls on a capital charge. Athird time, and the last time, I make him another offer. This time Iraise the sum to L5,000 in order to cover the losses of those twowitnesses, and in addition to the money, which is a large sum, enough tocarry you on in comfort and in credit, I offer your husband the crowninggift of life. Life--do you hear, woman! Life: and honour: andcredit--life--life--life--I say.'

  His face was troubled: his accents were eager: he was not acting: hefelt that he was offering me far more than anything he had ever offeredme before.

  'Hush,' whispered Jenny, keeping me quiet again--for all the time I waslonging to spring to my feet and to let loose a tongue of fieryeloquence. But to sit quite quiet and to say nothing was galling.

  'Take it, Will, take it,' said Tom. 'If the gentleman can do what hepromises, take it. Life and liberty--I say--before all.'

  'Sir,' said Alice--her voice was gentle, but it was strong: her face wassweet, but it was firm. The man saw and listened--and misunderstood. Iknow the mind of my husband in this matter. For reasons which youunderstand, he will not speak to you. The money that was devised by hisfather to the survivor of the two--his cousin or himself--has alwaysbeen accepted by him as a proof that at the end his father desired himto understand that he was not wholly unforgiven: that there was aloophole of forgiveness, but he did not explain what that was: thatshould my husband, who has no desire to see the death of his cousin,survive Mr. Matthew, he will receive the fortune as a proof that a lifeof hard and honest work has been accepted by his father in fullforgiveness. Sir, my husband considers his father's wishes as sacred.Nothing--no pressure of poverty--no danger such as the present will evermake him consent to sign the document you have so often submitted tohim.'

  'Then'--Mr. Probus put back his paper--'if this is your lastword--remember--you have but a few days left. Nothing can saveyou--nothing--nothing--nothing. You have but a few days before you arecondemned--a week or two more of life. Is this your last word?'

  'It is our last word, Sir,' said Alice.

  'She is right--Will is right,' cried Tom. 'Hark ye--Mr. Attorney. Thereis foul play here. We may find it out yet, with the help of God. Shall Iput him out of the door, Alice?'

  'He will go of his own accord, Tom. Will you leave us, Sir?'

  'Yes, I will leave you.' He shook his long forefinger in my face. 'Ha! Ileave you to be hanged: you shall have your miserable neck twisted likea chicken, and your last thought shall be that you threw your lifeaway--no--that by dying you give your cousin all.'

  So he flung out of the room and left us looking blankly at each other.

  Then Jenny spoke.

  'You did well, Will, to preserve silence in the presence of the wretch.We all do well to preserve silence about your defence. You dear people.I have counted up the cost. It will be more than at first I thought,because the case must be made complete, so complete that there can be nodoubt I promise you.' She took off her domino: her face was very pale: Iremember now that there was on it an unaccustomed look of nobility suchas belongs to one who takes a resolution certain to involve her ingreat trouble and at the expense of self-sacrifice or martyrdom. 'Ipromise you,' she said, 'that, cost what it may, the CASE SHALL BECOMPLETE.'