Phineas, as soon as he was alone, walked down to the House, at which there was an early sitting.  As he went there was one great question which he had to settle with himself,—­Was there any justice in the charge made against him that he had been false to his friend?  When he had thought over the matter at Saulsby, after rushing down there that he might throw himself at Violet’s feet, he had assured himself that such a letter as that which he resolved to write to Lord Chiltern, would be even chivalrous in its absolute honesty.  He would tell his purpose to Lord Chiltern the moment that his purpose was formed;—­and would afterwards speak of Lord Chiltern behind his back as one dear friend should speak of another.  Had Miss Effingham shown the slightest intention of accepting Lord Chiltern’s offer, he would have acknowledged to himself that the circumstances of his position made it impossible that he should, with honour, become his friend’s rival.  But was he to be debarred for ever from getting that which he wanted because Lord Chiltern wanted it also,—­knowing, as he did so well, that Lord Chiltern could not get the thing which he wanted?  All this had been quite sufficient for him at Saulsby.  But now the charge against him that he had been false to his friend rang in his ears and made him unhappy.  It certainly was true that Lord Chiltern had not given up his hopes, and that he had spoken probably more openly to Phineas respecting them than he had done to any other human being.  If it was true that he had been false, then he must comply with any requisition which Lord Chiltern might make,—­short of voluntarily giving up the lady.  He must fight if he were asked to do so, even though fighting were his ruin.

When again in the House yesterday’s scene came back upon him, and more than one man came to him congratulating him.  Mr. Monk took his hand and spoke a word to him.  The old Premier nodded to him.  Mr. Gresham greeted him; and Plantagenet Palliser openly told him that he had made a good speech.  How sweet would all this have been had there not been ever at his heart the remembrance of his terrible difficulty,—­the consciousness that he was about to be forced into an absurdity which would put an end to all this sweetness!  Why was the world in England so severe against duelling?  After all, as he regarded the matter now, a duel might be the best way, nay, the only way out of a difficulty.  If he might only be allowed to go out with Lord Chiltern the whole thing might be arranged.  If he were not shot he might carry on his suit with Miss Effingham unfettered by any impediment on that side.  And if he were shot, what matter was that to any one but himself?  Why should the world be so thin-skinned,—­so foolishly chary of human life?

Laurence Fitzgibbon did not come to the House, and Phineas looked for him at both the clubs which he frequented,—­leaving a note at each as he did not find him.  He also left a note for him at his lodgings in Duke Street.  “I must see you this evening.  I shall dine at the Reform Club,—­pray come there.”  After that, Phineas went up to Portman Square, in accordance with the instructions received from Lady Laura.