THE PRIME MINISTER (70 page)

‘If you’ll give me those two letters, Lopez, I’ll stick to you through thick and thin. By heavens I will! Think what the
People’s Banner
is. You may come to want that kind of thing some of these days.’ Lopez remained silent, looking into the other man’s eager face. ‘I shouldn’t
publish them, you know; but it would be so much to me to have the
evidence in my hands. You might do worse, you know, than make a friend of me.’

‘You won’t publish them?’

‘Certainly not. I shall only refer to them.’

Then Lopez pulled a bundle of papers out of his pocket. ‘There they are,’ he said.

‘Well,’ said Slide, when he had read them; ‘it is one of the rummest transactions I ever ’eard
of. Why did ’e send the money? That’s what I want to know. As far as the claim goes, you ’adn’t a leg to stand on.’

‘Not legally.’

‘You ’adn’t a leg to stand on anyway. But that doesn’t much matter. He sent the money, and the sending of the money was corrupt. Who shall I get to ask the question? I suppose young Fletcher wouldn’t do it?’

‘They’re birds of a feather,’ said Lopez.

‘Birds of a
feather do fall out sometimes. Or Sir Orlando Drought? I wonder whether Sir Orlando would do it. If any man ever ’ated another Sir Orlando Drought must ’ate the Duke of Omnium.’

‘I don’t think he’d let himself down to that kind of thing.’

‘Let ’imself down! I don’t see any letting down in it. But those men who have been in cabinets do stick to one another even when they are enemies. They think
themselves so mighty that they oughtn’t to be ’andled like other men. But I’ll let ’em know that I’ll ’andle ’em. A Cabinet Minister or a cowboy is the same to Quintus Slide when he has got his pen in ’is ‘and.’

On the next morning there came out another article in the
People’s Banner,
in which the writer declared that he had in his own possession the damnatory correspondence between the Prime
Minister and the late candidate at Silverbridge. ‘The Prime Minister may deny the fact,’ said the article. ‘We do not think it probable, but it is possible. We wish to be fair and aboveboard in everything. And therefore we at once inform the noble Duke that the entire correspondence is in our hands.’ In saying this Mr Quintus Slide thought that he had quite kept the promise which he made when he
said that he would only refer to the letters.

That scheme of going to Guatemala had been in the first instance propounded by Lopez with the object of frightening Mr Wharton into terms. There had, indeed, been some previous thoughts on the subject, – some plan projected before his marriage; but it had been resuscitated mainly with the hope that it might be efficacious to extract money. When
by degrees the son-in-law began to feel that even this would not be operative on his father-in-law’s purse, – when under this threat neither Wharton nor Emily gave way, – and when, with the view of strengthening his threat, he renewed his inquiries as to Guatemala and found that there might still be an opening for him in that direction, – the threat took the shape of a true purpose, and he began
to think that he would in real earnest try his fortunes in a new world. From day to day things did not go well with him, and from day to day Sexty Parker became more unendurable. It was impossible for him to keep from his partner this plan of emigration, – but he endeavoured to make Parker believe that the thing, if done at all, was not to be done till all his affairs were settled, – or in other
words all his embarrassments cleared by downright money payments, and that Mr Wharton was to make these payments on the condition that he thus expatriated himself. But Mr Wharton had made no such promise. Though the threatened day came nearer and nearer he could not bring himself to purchase a short respite for his daughter by paying money to a scoundrel, – which payment he felt sure would be of no
permanent service. During all this time Mr Wharton was very wretched. If he could have freed his daughter from her marriage by half his fortune he would have done it without a second thought. If he could have assuredly purchased the permanent absence of her husband, he would have done it at a large price. But let him pay what he would, he could see his way to no security. From day to day he became
more strongly convinced of the rascality of this man who was his son-in-law, and who was still an inmate in his own house. Of course he had accusations enough to make within
his own breast against his daughter, who, when the choice was open to her, would not take the altogether fitting husband provided for her, but had declared herself to be broken-hearted for ever unless she were allowed to throw
herself away upon this wretched creature. But he blamed himself almost as much as he did her. Why had he allowed himself to be so enervated by her prayers at last as to surrender everything, – as he had done? How could he presume to think that he should be allowed to escape, when he had done so little to prevent this misery?

He spoke to Emily about it, – not often indeed, but with great earnestness.
‘I have done it myself,’ she said, ‘and I will bear it’

‘Tell him you cannot go till you know to what home you are going.’

‘That is for him to consider. I have begged him to let me remain, and I can say no more. If he chooses to take me, I shall go.’

Then he spoke to her about money. ‘Of course I have money,’ he said. ‘Of course I have enough both for you and Everett. If I could do any good
by giving it to him, he should have it’

‘Papa,’ she answered, ‘I will never again ask you to give him a single penny. That must be altogether between you and him. He is what they call a speculator. Money is not safe with him.’

‘I shall have to send it you when you are in want’

‘When I am – dead there will be no more to be sent. Do not look like that, papa. I know what I have done, and I must
bear it. I have thrown away my life. It is just that. If baby had lived it would have been different’ This was about the end of January, and then Mr Wharton heard of the great attack made by Mr Quintus Slide against the Prime Minister, and heard, of course, of the payment alleged to have been made to Ferdinand Lopez by the Duke on the score of the election at Silverbridge. Some persons spoke to
him on the subject. One or two friends at the club asked him what he supposed to be the truth in the matter, and Mrs Roby inquired of him on the subject. ‘I have asked Lopez,’ she said, ‘and I am sure from his manner that he did get the money.’

‘I don’t know anything about it,’ said Mr Wharton.

‘If he did get it I think he was very clever.’ It was well known at this time to Mrs Roby that the
Lopez marriage had been a failure, that Lopez was not a rich man, and that Emily, as well as her father,
was discontented and unhappy. She had latterly heard of the Guatemala scheme, and had of course expressed her horror. But she sympathized with Lopez rather than with his wife, thinking that if Mr Wharton would only open his pockets wide enough things might still be right ‘It was all the Duchess’s
fault, you know,’ she said to the old man.

‘I know nothing about it, and when I want to know I certainly shall not come to you. The misery he has brought upon me is so great that it makes me wish that I had never seen anyone who knew him.’

‘It was Everett who introduced him to your house.’

‘It was you who introduced him to Everett.’

‘There you are wrong, – as you so often are, Mr Wharton.
Everett met him first at the club.’

‘What’s the use of arguing about it? It was at your house that Emily met him. It was you that did it. I wonder you can have the face to mention his name to me.’

‘And the man living all the time in your own house!’

Up to this time Mr Wharton had not mentioned to a single person the fact that he had paid his son-in-law’s election expenses at Silverbridge. He
had given him the cheque without much consideration, with the feeling that by doing so he would in some degree benefit his daughter; and had since regretted the act, finding that no such payment from him could be of any service to Emily. But the thing had been done, – and there had been, so far, an end of it In no subsequent discussion would Mr Wharton have alluded to it, had not circumstances now
as it were driven it back upon his mind. And since the day on which he had paid that money he had been, as he declared to himself, swindled over and over again by his son-in-law. There was the dinner in Manchester Square, and after that the brougham, and the rent, and a score of bills, some of which he had paid and some declined to pay! And yet he had said but little to the man himself of all these
injuries. Of what use was it to say anything? Lopez would simply reply that he had asked him to pay nothing. ‘What is it all,’ Lopez had once said, ‘to the fortune I had a right to expect with your daughter?’ ‘You had no right to expect a shilling,’ Wharton had said. Then Lopez had shrugged his shoulders, and there had been an end of it.

But now, if this rumour were true, there had been positive
dishonesty. From whichever source the man might have got the money first, if the money had been twice got, the second payment had been fraudulently obtained. Surely if the accusation had been untrue Lopez would have come to him and declared it to be false, knowing what must otherwise be his thoughts. Lately, in the daily worry of his life, he had avoided all conversation with the man. He would
not allow his mind to contemplate clearly what was coming. He entertained some irrational, undefined hope that something would at last save his daughter from the threatened banishment. It might be, if he held his own hand tight enough, that there would not be money enough even to pay for her passage out. As for her outfit, Lopez would of course order what he wanted and have the bills sent to Manchester
Square. Whether or not this was being done neither he nor Emily knew. And thus matters went on without much speech between the two men. But now the old barrister thought that he was bound to speak. He therefore waited on a certain morning till Lopez had come down, having previously desired his daughter to leave the room. ‘Lopez,’ he asked, ‘what is this that the newspapers are saying about
your expenses at Silverbridge?’

Lopez had expected the attack and had endeavoured to prepare himself for it. ‘I should have thought, sir, that you would not have paid much attention to such statements in a newspaper.’

‘When they concern myself, I do. I paid your electioneering expenses.’

‘You certainly subscribed £500 towards them, Mr Wharton.’

‘I subscribed nothing, sir. There was no question
of a subscription, – by which you intend to imply contribution from various sources. You told me that the contest cost you £500 and that sum I handed to you, with the full understanding on your part, as well as on mine, that I was paying for the whole. Was that so?’

‘Have it your own way, sir.’

‘If you are not more precise, I shall think that you have defrauded me.’

‘Defrauded you!’

‘Yes,
sir; – defrauded me, or the Duke of Omnium. The money is gone, and it matters little which. But if that be so I shall know that either from him or from me you have raised money under false pretences.’

‘Of course, Mr Wharton, from you I must bear whatever you may choose to say.’

‘Is it true that you have applied to the Duke of Omnium for money on account of your expenses at Silverbridge, and
is it true that he has paid you money on that score?’

‘Mr Wharton, as I said just now, I am bound to hear and to bear from you anything that you may choose to say. Your connection with my wife and your age alike restrain my resentment. But I am not bound to answer your questions when they are accompanied by such language as you have chosen to use, and I refuse to answer any further questions
on this subject.’

‘Of course I know that you have taken the money from the Duke.’

‘Then why do you ask me?’

‘And of course I know that you are as well aware as I am of the nature of the transaction. That you can brazen it out without a blush only proves to me that you have got beyond the reach of shame!’

‘Very well, sir.’

‘And you have no further explanation to make?’

‘What do you expect
me to say? Without knowing any of the facts of the case, – except the one, that you contributed £500 to my election expenses, – you take upon yourself to tell me that I am a shameless, fraudulent swindler. And then you ask for a further explanation! In such a position is it likely that I shall explain anything; – that I can be in a humour to be explanatory? Just turn it all over in your own mind,
and ask yourself the question.’

‘I have turned it over in my own mind, and I have asked myself the question, and I do not think it probable that you should wish to explain anything. I shall take steps to let the Duke know that I as your father-in-law had paid the full sum which you had stated that you had spent at Silverbridge.’

‘Much the Duke will care about that’

‘And after what has passed
I am obliged to say that the sooner you leave this house the better I shall be pleased.’

‘Very well, sir. Of course I shall take my wife with me.’

‘That must be as she pleases.’

‘No, Mr Wharton. That must be as I please. She belongs to me, – not to you or to herself. Under your influence she has forgotten much of what belongs to the duty of a wife, but I do not think that
she will so far have
forgotten herself as to give me more trouble than to bid her come with me when I desire it.’

‘Let that be as it may, I must request that you, sir, will absent yourself. I will not entertain as my guest a man who has acted as you have done in this matter, – even though he be my son-in-law.’

‘I can sleep here to-night, I suppose?’

‘Or to-morrow if it suits you. As for Emily, she can remain here,
if you will allow her to do so.’

‘That will not suit me,’ said Lopez.

‘In that case, as far as I am concerned, I shall do whatever she may ask me to do. Good morning.’

Mr Wharton left the room, but did not leave the house. Before he did so he would see his daughter; and, thinking it probable that Lopez would also choose to see his wife, he prepared to wait in his own room. But, in about ten
minutes, Lopez started from the hall door in a cab, and did so without going upstairs. Mr Wharton had reason to believe that his son-in-law was almost destitute of money for immediate purposes. Whatever he might have would at any rate be serviceable to him before he started. Any home for Emily must be expensive; and no home in their present circumstances could be so reputable for her as one under
her father’s roof. He therefore almost hoped that she might still be left with him till that horrid day should come, – if it ever did come, – in which she would be taken away from him for ever. ‘Of course, papa, I shall go if he bids me,’ she said, when he told her all that he thought right to tell her of that morning’s interview.