ved in difficulties, but in the
meantime the jury, who had been taken down by train every day to have
a walk in the country in the company of two sheriff's officers, and
who had been allowed to dine at Greenwich one day and at Richmond on
another in the hope that whitebait with lamb and salad might in some
degree console them for their loss of liberty, were informed that
they would be once again put into their box on Wednesday. But Madame
Goesler reached London on the Sunday morning, and on the Monday the
whole affair respecting the key was unravelled in the presence of the
Attorney-General, and with the personal assistance of our old friend,
Major Mackintosh. Without a doubt the man Mealyus had caused to be
made for him in Prague a key which would open the door of the house
in Northumberland Street. A key was made in London from the model now
brought which did open the door. The Attorney-General seemed to think
that it would be his duty to ask the judge to call upon the jury to
acquit Phineas Finn, and that then the matter must rest for ever,
unless further evidence could be obtained against Yosef Mealyus. It
would not be possible to hang a man for a murder simply because he
had fabricated a key,--even though he might possibly have obtained
the use of a grey coat for a few hours. There was no tittle of
evidence to show that he had ever had the great coat on his
shoulders, or that he had been out of the house on that night. Lord
Fawn, to his infinite disgust, was taken to the prison in which
Mealyus was detained, and was confronted with the man, but he could
say nothing. Mealyus, at his own suggestion, put on the coat, and
stalked about the room in it. But Lord Fawn would not say a word. The
person whom he now saw might have been the man in the street, or Mr.
Finn might have been the man, or any other man might have been the
man. Lord Fawn was very dignified, very reserved, and very unhappy.
To his thinking he was the great martyr of this trial. Phineas Finn
was becoming a hero. Against the twelve jurymen the finger of scorn
would never be pointed. But his sufferings must endure for his
life--might probably embitter his life to the very end. Looking into
his own future from his present point of view he did not see how he
could ever again appear before the eye of the public. And yet with
what persistency of conscience had he struggled to be true and
honest! On the present occasion he would say nothing. He had seen
a man