I could not undertake to say what you might do; but that as you had come forward at first with my sanction, I could not withdraw it now.  He asked me if I should support you with money; I said that I should to a moderate extent.  ‘By G——­,’ said the Earl, ’a moderate extent will go a very little way, I can tell you.’  Since that he has had Duggin with him; so, I suppose, I shall not see him any more.  You can do as you please now; but, from what I hear, I fear you will have no chance.”  Then with much bitterness of spirit Phineas resolved that he would not interfere with Lord Tulla at Loughshane.  He would go at once to the Reform Club and explain his reasons to Barrington Erle and others there who would be interested.

But he first went to Grosvenor Place.  Here he was shown up into Mr. Kennedy’s room.  Mr. Kennedy was up and seated in an arm-chair by an open window looking over into the Queen’s garden; but he was in his dressing-gown, and was to be regarded as an invalid.  And indeed as he could not turn his neck, or thought that he could not do so, he was not very fit to go out about his work.  Let us hope that the affairs of the Duchy of Lancaster did not suffer materially by his absence.  We may take it for granted that with a man so sedulous as to all his duties there was no arrear of work when the accident took place.  He put out his hand to Phineas, and said some word in a whisper,—­some word or two among which Phineas caught the sound of “potted peas,”—­and then continued to look out of the window.  There are men who are utterly prostrated by any bodily ailment, and it seemed that Mr. Kennedy was one of them.  Phineas, who was full of his own bad news, had intended to tell his sad story at once.  But he perceived that the neck of the Chancellor of the Duchy was too stiff to allow of his taking any interest in external matters, and so he refrained.  “What does the doctor say about it?” said Phineas, perceiving that just for the present there could be only one possible subject for remark.  Mr. Kennedy was beginning to describe in a long whisper what the doctor did think about it, when Lady Laura came into the room.

Of course they began at first to talk about Mr. Kennedy.  It would not have been kind to him not to have done so.  And Lady Laura made much of the injury, as it behoves a wife to do in such circumstances for the sake both of the sufferer and of the hero.  She declared her conviction that had Phineas been a moment later her husband’s neck would have been irredeemably broken.

“I don’t think they ever do kill the people,” said Phineas.  “At any rate they don’t mean to do so.”

“I thought they did,” said Lady Laura.

“I fancy not,” said Phineas, eager in the cause of truth.

“I think this man was very clumsy,” whispered Mr. Kennedy.

“Perhaps he was a beginner,” said Phineas, “and that may make a difference.  If so, I’m afraid we have interfered with his education.”