An awful but instructive scene is the death-bed of the guilty. Shipkins
experienced, by anticipation, the agonizing terrors of a future state.
Despair took possession of his mind; but it was the despair of the
coward who trembles to meet his judge, and not that of the penitent,
who, prompted by hope, implores for mercy. He had lived a desperate life
of crime, and his hearers shuddered as vivid recollection of the past
seemed to flash upon him like sudden visions forcing him to reveal the
enormities he had perpetrated.
His account, as far as it went, of Lieutenant Heartwell, was briefly
this,--that Brady coveted his wealth for the double purpose of enriching
himself, and carrying on those treasonable practices in which he was
deeply involved--on the day of the lieutenant's disappearance, he had,
after the departure of the bank agent, been encouraged to drink--the wine
was drugged, and took its full effect. Shipkins had himself personated
Heartwell in the hackney-coach affair, having previously stripped the
lieutenant, and substituted the naval uniform for his own apparel,--and
the evidence given by the coachman was perfectly correct. After alighting
in Ormond Street, Shipkins crossed over into Great Ormond Yard, where
he concealed himself in one of the stables which had been taken for the
occasion, having a light cart and horse in readiness to further their
schemes. Here he was shortly afterwards joined by Brady with his clothes,
for which the lieutenant's were immediately exchanged, the horse was put
into the cart, they drove to Lincoln's Inn, and having deposited Mr.
Heartwell in it, they conveyed him--still in an insensible state--as well
as the notes, gold, and documents, to the very cottage they were then in.
Here a sudden spasm seized the dying man--he gasped convulsively--an
internal hemorrhage was going on, that threatened suffocation,--and it
may readily be supposed, that intense anxiety pervaded every one present.
Mrs. Heartwell had listened almost breathlessly,--every word that was
uttered made its due and deep impression on her heart--she sat like a
statue--no relieving tear started to her eye, for the fever of agonised
expectation had dried the source of tears--no sigh, no groan escaped
her, till the expiring Shipkins stopped, and then extending her hands,
as she looked at the contorted and ghastly features of the clerk, her
voice found utterance, and clasping her hands in earnest entreaty, she
exclaimed,--
"Oh, let him not die--hold--hold--yet, a little longer life that he may
tell us all. Heavenly Father, in pity spare him, till his conscience is
unburthened, and then in mercy pardon his offences."
Frank supported his mother, and tried to calm her perturbation, though
his own spirit was on the rack, as he now concluded that his conjectures
were correct, and beneath the same roof which they were then under, his
gallant father had been murdered. It was a moment of trying suspense to
all, and eagerly they watched the surgeon exercise his skill, as, raised
up by Ben, the close of Shipkins' career seemed fast approaching--they
had as yet heard nothing of the lieutenant's fate, nor had any
information been rendered relative to Brady's place of concealment, and
what had been communicated served rather to excite greater agitation than
to allay that which had already been caused.
The surgeon had requested every one to remain silent, and the stillness
was only broken by himself as he gave directions to Ben, (but even
these were given in whispers,) and the struggles of the dying man, who,
grasping at the air, as if he would clutch another victim, muttered
unconnected sentences. It was an appalling spectacle--loud and piercing
was his shriek as he caught Ben's arm, and grasped it with a desperate
grasp, as the only stay in life,--wild and imploring was his look as he
tried to speak, but the words could not find utterance. It was only for
a moment--a yell of agony succeeded, and in a few minutes his limbs were
stiffening in the rigidity of death.
But what language can picture the distress of Mrs. Heartwell and her
son, at the disclosure's being so prematurely cut off, and that too in
so fearful a manner! Frank tried to lessen the disappointment and grief
of his parent; but she who had all along cherished hope, now enfeebled
by circumstances that had preyed upon her mind, and weighed down by the
pressure of the evidence which Shipkins had given, seemed sinking into
despair.
It was past midnight when the wretched man ceased to exist. No one
thought of repose, except the surgeon, who accustomed to witness the
flight of the departed spirit, retired to his home; but Mr. Wendover
remained at the cottage, endeavouring to tranquillise the lady's mind.
Morning had not yet broke, when the sound of horses' hoofs were heard
upon the common; but they suddenly ceased at the garden-gate, and the
bell was violently rung. Frank and Ben grasped their pistols, and
immediately went out to answer the summons. The horseman had dismounted,
and being questioned, said "he was the bearer of a letter to Lieutenant
Heartwell that required instant attention." The letter was handed through
the bars--Frank saw that the superscription was addressed to himself,
and breaking the seal, he ascertained that the signature was that of Mr.
Unity Peach. The letter was characteristic of the writer, and ran thus:--
"SIR,--Strange doings--caught sight of Brady last night--pursued
(chased, you would call it)--followed him to a house in
Hoxton--madhouse--sent for the constables, and put them on
watch--cannot enter without a warrant--they will not open the
doors.--Hasten hither (bear a hand, you would say)--let us have no
delays--the badger is trapped at last, and it will require a good
dog to draw him.--The bearer of this will tell you whereabouts to
find me.
Yours, UNITY PEACH."
There was nothing in this curious epistle that might not be communicated
to Mrs. Heartwell, and Frank at once related the occurrence, and
urged the necessity of his immediate compliance. His mother not only
acquiesced, but wished to accompany him, and probably would have done
so, had not Mr. Wendover dissuaded her from it. The pony-chaise was
put in requisition, but the merchant sent to the Hall for his own
post-chariot, in which himself and Frank departed, the messenger riding
on before as conductor. A gloomy daylight had opened on them when they
reached their destination--a small public-house--where they found Mr.
Peach, who was impatiently awaiting their arrival. From him they learned
that he had on the previous afternoon been to a lunatic asylum in the
neighbourhood of Hoxton, for the purpose of visiting "Brothers the
Prophet" (who had been removed thither during some temporary repairs at
Fisher's), and did not leave that place till late in the evening, when
on passing out at the gates, a man alighted from horseback, his face
ashy pale, with a small stream of blood running down it; he was much
bespattered with mud, as if he had fallen, and was evidently in a state
of great excitement; the horse, too, appeared to have been ridden hard.
Mr. Peach had to draw himself up on one side to allow of his passing, and
the porter holding up his lantern in order to ascertain who the visitor
was, revealed to Mr. Peach the features of Brady--especially as on
observing him there was the strange and peculiar expression of the eye.
The first impulse of the detector was to seize the lawyer, but his usual
caution arrested his hand, and he suffered him to pass onward, which as
soon as he had done, the porter led in the horse, and Mr. Peach having
walked out, the gates were closed behind him.
Certain of the personal identity, and pondering the circumstance in
his mind, the old gentleman determined to watch till some one should
pass whom he might employ in sending for a constable, but it was long
before any one approached that lonely and dreary abode. At length the
horn of the night-patrol (who volunteered for recompense to conduct
passengers across the fields) was heard, and Mr. Peach ran towards him
and communicated his earnest request that an efficient force might
be immediately sent to apprehend a felon who had taken shelter at a
residence in the neighbourhood. This was accompanied by a present of
money, with the promise of still greater reward, both public and private,
if the villain was apprehended. The patrol performed his duty, and in a
short time several peace-officers were in attendance, and an attempt was
made to gain admission into the house, but without avail; its iron-barred
windows and strong doors set attack at defiance. The constables had
consequently been placed upon the watch round the building all night, to
prevent escape.
Such was the position of affairs when Frank and Mr. Wendover arrived.
The merchant resolved to act in his official capacity, and demand an
entrance. They were soon at the doors, and a summons being given, Mr.
Wendover explained the object of their visit. The porter, in reply,
declared that no person of the name of Brady was there, nor was he at all
acquainted with the individual alluded to.
"False!" exclaimed Mr. Unity Peach, "saw him myself--went in as I came
out last night--muddy, dirty--cut face--know him well."
"That gentleman, sir," replied the porter, "that was Mr. Bartlett, the
principal proprietor of this establishment."
Looks of doubt and perplexity passed between Frank and Mr. Wendover; and
the latter, after a short hesitation, remarked, "If that is the case he
can have no objection to grant us an interview."
"I fear," returned the man, "that you cannot see him; he had a severe
fall last night from his horse, and is much injured in the head--indeed
is now almost insensible."
Mr. Wendover once more questioned Peach, and the latter persisted in the
most positive manner that it was Brady whom he had seen go in. "Well,
then, it is utterly useless delaying," said the merchant; "and I now as
a magistrate demand an entrance: if it is not complied with, I will upon
my own responsibility force the doors."
"I will consult my superior," said the porter, returning from the gate.
In a few minutes he returned, and stated that he was directed to give
free admission to the magistrate, and a few whom he might select to
accompany him. A strange feeling came over Frank as he entered this
abode of tortured spirits; for the mad-houses of those days were seldom
inspected, and many a victim to avarice and villany had been confined
within their walls[24]. The secrets of the "prison-house" were never
disclosed, for the unhappy creatures were incarcerated for life;
sometimes they would indeed be driven mad, but death alone gave them
release from torment.
A respectable-looking elderly man met the party, and after apologies and
explanations, announced that "Mr. Bartlett's injuries from his fall were
very serious, and throughout the night he had been labouring under an
attack of brain-fever, which he hoped was subsiding, though he was still
subject to restraint."
"I have only the furtherance of justice in view," said Mr. Wendover; "he
has been sworn to in the most positive manner, and I must see him."
"The appearance of so many persons may be hazardous to his existence,"
replied the other submissively; "if it is a mere matter of identity, more
than two or three will not be required."
The arrangement was made, and Mr. Wendover, Mr. Peach, and Frank,
were conducted through several passages, till they arrived in a part
of the building where the most violent maniacs were confined; here in
an apartment, whose entrance might have almost defied detection, they
beheld a man in a strait-waistcoat, stretched upon a mattress upon the
ground with two keepers in attendance to awe him into subjection. His
countenance was haggard and flushed, and there was a tiger-like ferocity
in his look, that claimed but little semblance to humanity; he was still
raving, and his wild unnatural laugh thrilled with horror through the
frames of the visitors. Mr. Wendover and Unity Peach were the first to
enter, but he took no notice of them. Frank followed; and the moment he
was visible, the individual whom they had come to see drew himself up as
if his whole frame were withering with sudden blight, and he convulsively
and hissingly drew his breath, like one who has suddenly been plunged
into cold water.
"What! there again?" muttered he, as he fixed his gaze on Frank, whose
strong likeness to his father, and in the naval uniform too, had induced
a belief that the spirit of his victim stood in his presence; whilst the
peculiar rolling of the man's eyes instantly betrayed that Brady was
before them; "but," and he laughed wildly, "I defy you--the judge cannot
take the evidence of the dead." He raised his voice--"Hence--depart, I
say--no earthly tribunal can take cognizance of your oath, and so far I
am safe." He turned to Peach and demanded--"Who and what are you?--how
came you here?--who has dared to let you in?--speak--who are you?"
Slowly Mr. Peach removed his hat and wig, and the patch from his eye. "I
knew I was right," said he: "Brady, do you know me now?"
"Well, well," returned the lawyer quietly, "this is kind of you,
too--more than I expected--but how did you find me out--come, come,
friend Shaft, sit down; we will not heed yon spectre," his aberration
took another turn. "Ha," he shouted, "it is you who have betrayed me, old
man; traitor! monster! it is you who have denounced your friend. Acteon
Shaft, I defy you to the very teeth."
"It is enough that you now recognise me," responded the other; and
turning to Mr. Wendover, added, "You may perceive, sir, that my
information was correct."
Brady's ravings and struggles became dreadful; the attendants could with
difficulty hold him down till overwrought nature brought a crisis, and he
sank in strong convulsions. The young lieutenant's feelings it would be
impossible to describe, as he looked upon the supposed murderer of his
father, and fears began to arise that he should again be deprived of the
information he so earnestly desired.
An hour elapsed before Brady was recovered from his fit, which left him
weak and exhausted, but restored to consciousness and to a sense of
his perilous situation: still the inveterate and hardened criminal was
unsubdued, and retained all the craftiness of his character. Mr. Wendover
addressed him in energetic language. Frank earnestly implored him to
reveal all he knew of the fate of his parent, but the wily man "denied
all knowledge of the lieutenant beyond placing him in the hackney-coach."
"Shipkins has been taken," said Mr. Wendover, "and he has confessed--?"
"What, what has he confessed?" eagerly demanded the lawyer; and then
slowly added, "His confessions are worth nothing; I do not fear them;
leave me to myself, and let the law take its course."
"Brady! Brady!" exclaimed Unity Peach, now revealed as the celebrated
Acteon Shaft, through whose means government had been enabled to defeat
the treasonable designs of the disaffected, "do not, do not go into the
presence of your Maker with a lie upon your tongue. Tell us what became
of Lieutenant Heartwell. You have not long to live, why should you refuse
this act of justice to those whom you have so deeply injured--they have
discovered the concealed property?"
"Ha," uttered Brady, like one struck with mortal agony, "question me no
further; I will not answer you." He looked towards one of the attendants
inquiringly, and the man made some sign in return, but both were scarcely
perceptible.
"Is there nothing will prevail with you," said the young officer in deep
distress; "will not a mother's tears--the supplications of a son--"
[Illustration: _The Death of Brady and discovery of Frank's Father._
London. Tilt & Bogue. 86. Fleet Street.]
"Nothing, nothing," doggedly returned Brady, "you have the property; your
father you will see no more. Hah!" he shrieked and started, fixing his
blood-shot but rolling eyes at an aged-looking man, who was standing in
the door-way. "Hah! what! again betrayed?--'tis he--'tis he himself, and
no delusion."
The look of every one present was turned upon the object of the lawyer's
terror. "It is, it is indeed he," uttered Acteon Shaft with deep emotion.
"Frank, it is your father."
There cannot be any necessity for relating what ensued as Frank fell
himself in the embrace of his long-lost and affectionately-mourned
parent! Nor can it be required of me to tell the delight of Mr.
Heartwell's spirit as, restored to freedom, he gazed with pride upon the
handsome features and manly appearance of his son. Those who have hearts
alive to nature, have already pictured the whole, and my task is spared.
Mutual recognitions and hearty greetings for several minutes drew away
attention from the wretch who had caused such long-protracted misery. On
again turning towards him, he was in the same position, but his glassy
eyes were fixed as if bursting from their sockets--he was dead.