CHAPTER XXV.
THE FORGERY.
When Oliver Goldfinch appeared before Alderman Croly and beheld the parties present, he became so violently agitated that it was only by a great effort he prevented himself from sinking to the ground. What he saw at a glance, told him too well that his long guilty career had now come to a frightful terminus. Before him, apparently awaiting his arrival to complete their triumph, stood Morton, and Dudley, and Edgar, and, most dreaded of all, with a Sardonic grin on his ugly features, his own vile tool, the treacherous Nathan Wesley. To understand the nefarious scheme of which Goldfinch was the author, it will be necessary for us to give in substance Wesley's testimony. Being put upon oath, with the understanding that he was to be considered as state's evidence, and consequently exonerated in the eyes of the law for his own part in the dark transaction, he told his story in such a bold, unhesitating, straight-forward manner, that all present felt convinced, no matter what had been the tenor of his life heretofore, he now at least spoke the truth. He began by stating that some five years previous, mentioning the exact date, the accused had found him, at a time when, driven nearly to desperation by poverty, he was ripe for almost any scheme that would put money in his empty pockets, and had commenced by asking him what he would do to be rich, and ended by unfolding to him a dark plot, and offering him a fortune if he would venture to become one of the principal actors therein. This plot was no other than forging or altering a will of his own brother-in-law, Ethan Courtly, who, he stated, was about to set sail for Europe, from whence it was his (Goldfinch's) intention he should never return alive. The will, in the first place, was to be drawn up in due form by a lawyer, and then, to prevent the possibility of detection, was to be copied entire by Wesley, and the copy be presented to the principal and witnesses for signing. This was accordingly done; when Goldfinch, taking possession of it, for the purpose, as he said, of having it recorded, passed it over to Wesley for alteration. This alteration consisted in extracting, by means of a chemical process, such portions of the will as bestowed the bulk of the property upon the wife and heirs of the deceased, and supplying the place thereof with such language as would make Goldfinch the principal inheritor. This being effected in a manner almost certain to escape detection—from the fact of the hand-writing of both the alteration and original being the same—Goldfinch, the better to blind all parties, had the boldness to have the forgery recorded the day previous to the embarkation of Ethan Courtly. Of this vile transaction, Wesley stated, in conclusion, there was only one other who had any knowledge. This was the lawyer who drew up the original will, and who,having by chance overheard a private conference between the witness and the accused, and being discovered ere the important secret had escaped hrs possession, soon after mysteriously disappeared. "In other words, he was murdered, I suppose?" said the counsel for defence. Wesley shuddered and turned pale, as he replied: "I didn't say that." "No, but your language implied as much." "So please your Honor, and you gentlemen," said Goldfinch, with a gleam of malice on his countenance, "I do here boldly accuse Nathan Wesley of committing most foul murder, and beg you will have him arrested forthwith!" "One case at a time," replied the magistrate. "As matters are, I demand that my client be liberated at once!" rejoined the lawyer. "Surely, your Honor cannot think of detaining him on the flimsy evidence ot a witness who has already owned to the commission of a capital offence?" "It's a lie!" cried Wesley, much excited. "I haven't owned to any such thing; and I'll be—if I do, either!" "Silence, sir!" exclaimed the magistrate; "and when you speak again, make use of more respectful language, or I will have you imprisoned for contempt of court. Is there any other evidence to be brought forward touching this forgery?" "I will bring evidence to impeach the present witness," replied the counsel of Goldfinch. "All in good time, my friend," rejoined Morton, with marked emphasis, and a peculiar glance of deep meaning toward the other. "Before proceeding farther, your Honor, I would have an officer dispatched for this will, that we may examine it and compare it with the description given by the witness." "It shall be done," replied Alderman Croly; and he beckoned to an officer in attendance, with whom he held some conversation, in a tone too low for the others to hear. At this the features of Goldfinch assumed a sickly, cadaverous appearance of despair, while the countenance of Wesley, and more especially his small black eyes, displayed a look of malicious triumph. "You'll find it," said the latter, "in a private drawer of the secretary, which stands in the library." The officer soon after passed out of the room; but ere he did so, Morton whispered a few words in his ear, and then resuming his seat before a table, commenced overlooking some manuscripts. For a moment deep silence prevailed, and the magistrate was on the point of inquiring if any more witnesses for the prosecution were to appear, when the door slowly opened, and a pale, emaciated, ghostly figure stood in the entrance, and rolled his protruding and glassy-looking eyes steadily over those present, until they fell upon Wesley, where for a time they remained stationary, with a look well calculated to freeze the blood of one given to belief in the supernatural. And most astonishing was its effect upon Wesley in the present instance—insomuch that every eye became fixed upon him. On the first appearance of this ghostly object, the attorney looked towards it with a careless, indifferent air.— Then he slightly started, and his features began to pale. Then his eyes enlarged and protruded, his nostrils expanded, and his lower jaw slightly dropped ajar. But it was not till the cold, glassy, unearthly-looking eyes of the figure fastened upon his, that his terror reached its height.— Then did he become a frightful picture.— With his hand raised in an attitude of horror— his eyes apparently starting from his head—his hair fairly standing on end—his mouth wide open—his breath suspended— every feature of his countenance distorted with fright and rigid as marble—with cold drops of perspiration pressing through the pores of his skin, and a slight tremor running through his frame—he remained, for a brief time, the perfect embodiment of guilty fear. At length he found his voice, and fairly shrieked: "Man or devil—living or dead—of earth, heaven or hell—I'll speak to you! Who are you?" "Whom you cast Into the sea," replied the apparition, in a deep, hollow, sepulchral voice. "Great God!" shouted Wesley, springing up frantically: "can the sea give up its dead before its time?" Have you come to drag me to judgement?" "Do you own to the horrid deed?" was the sepulchral rejoinder. "Yes! to any thing—so you'll quit my sight forever! Hell can't have more terrors, and I'd rather be hung than see your ghost again." "Then behold me your accuser in the living flesh," replied the figure, advancing into the room; "and thine above all others, thou man of crime!" he added, turning to Goldfinch, who was by this time almost as much a picture of horror and dismay as Wesley himself. "This, your Honor," said Morton, addressing the magistrate, who was all amazement, "is another witness whom I have taken the liberty to introduce in this manner, for the purpose of observing what effect it would have upon the guilty. This, sir, is Alanson Davis, the lawyer who drew up the original will of Ethan Courtly." The reader of course has not forgotten the invalid, whom Edgar found and had conveyed to the hospital, although for some time he has been apparently overlooked. His malady, as the physician stated it would be, was for some days very severe, so much so that his life was despaired of. But good medical attendance and careful nursing turned the important crisis in his favor, and from that moment he began to amend even more rapidly than was anticipated. This was doubtless much owing to his strength of will and desire to be abroad. So fast did he recover, that just previous to the murder of Ellen, Morton and Edgar were admitted to see him, when he was able to state concisely what he knew of the forgery of Goldfinch. This, combined with Wesley's disclosure, which he had made on the morning he was closeted with the lawyer, was evidence sufficient to proceed against the hypocrite; and Morton had only waited till Davis was able to leave the hospital, before making the arrest. With this explanation we will again proceed. As soon as Wesley had sufficiently recovered from his fright to understand that Alanson Davis stood before h
im in propria persona , his look of fear changed to one of joy; and springing forward, ere the other was aware of his purpose, he threw his arms around him and fairly shouted: "Imprison me—hang me—do what you will with me—I don't care for consequenses now; for though I'm a villain, I'm no murderer; and since I've told all I know of my dark deeds, which he (pointing to Goldfinch) put me up to, I've got an easy conscience again, which I wouldn't exchange for the wealth of the Indies. O, sir! (to Davis) if you only knew how I've been troubled day and night in thinking over what I did to you, you'd may be have some compassion. But you don't know any thing of it; and can't till you do something like it yourself; and so I don't expect any leniency, though I throw myself on your mercy." His plain, common-place, earnest, impetuous words, produced an effect on Davis, which, in all probability, a strain of polished eloquence would not. It showed that the attorney was sincere in his repentance, and not, as he had expected to find him, totally depraved. There was the germ of something better in his nature than the fruits had thus far given evidence of; and being a man more ready to forgive an injury, than do a wrong himself, he thus replied: "Far be it from me to press too hard a repentant man. What I have suffered through your misdeeds, though, God and myself only know. But as I hope to be forgiven for my own errors, I am willing to forgive those of another when I can justly do so. You, Nathan Wesley, have been a bad man—a man of guilt and crime! But as, unknowing of my existence, you have taken the preliminary steps to bring the guilty prompter of all (here he glanced at Goldfinch, who was grinding his teeth in rage and despair,) to punishment, I will take it as evidence you intend to become a better man. Only convince me, by subsequent acts, that your repentance is sincere, and I solemnly promise never to bring an accusation against you." "You do?" cried Wesley, with a look of cestatic delight. "Well, if I don't do it, then, may I be hung higher than Haman, and the carrion-eaters tear off my vile flesh piece by piece." The statement which Davis made, under oath, before the magistrate, in substance confirmed the evidence of Wesley. But there were some dark matters, which his own inclination and the promise he had made to the latter forbade him to touch upon, which we hasten to lay before the reader. It has been said that Davis overheard a conversation between Goldfinch and Wesley, which placed them both in his power. It occured in this wise: Goldfinch had procured Davis to draw up a will for Courtly, in the presence of the latter; and as soon as it was done, he (Goldfinch) had taken possession of it,and,under the pretext that proper witnesses were wanting, had delayed its being signed at the time, but had requested the lawyer to call again at Courtly's office at a certain hour after nightfall. Davis, mistaking the hour, called previous to the time mentioned, and finding the door ajar, and no light within, entered and took a seat to await the parties. Soon after Wesley and Goldfinch came in together, and locking the door, proceeded to discuss their plan of operation; from which it appeared that a copy of the will, drawn up by Davis, had just been made by Wesley, and was to be presented to Courtly for signing previous to the appearance of Davis, who was to be met by Goldfinch and informed that Courtly had altered his mind in regard to the original instrument, and had had another drawn up since that suited his purpose better. By this means the lawyer was to be deceived in regard to the whole affair, and his testimony rendered worthless in case the forgery should ever have a judicial investigation. Having at last arranged every thing to his satisfaction, touching the alteration of the will, and how Courtly was to be prevented from returning, &c., Goldfinch struck a light, and, to his horror and dismay, discovered that his dark secret was in the possession of one who would, in case he escaped, be sure to betray him.— Great evils require powerful remedies; and a cold, calculating man of crime is in general prepared for all emergencies. It was so in the present instance; for drawing a pistol, Goldfinch placed it to the head of the lawyer, threatening his life if he stirred or made the least noise; and then, in a tone too low for the latter to overhear, held a hurried conference with Wesley. This over, the scheming man turned to Davis, and informed him his choice lay between instant death and his secret and sudden departure from the country. "There is a vessel," he said, "outward bound, which sails to-morrow morning at daylight. If you will consent to be blind-folded and conducted on board of her, swearing solemnly to keep our secret till a thousand miles are between us, you shall have life, liberty and a fortune. Refuse this, and a speedy death is yours!" Davis was not long in deciding, and of course chose the least of the two evils. To be brief, a bandage was instantly passed around his eyes; and completely muffled in a cloak, with the point of a dagger resting on his heart, and the assurance that an attempt to call for aid would cause it to be buried to the hilt, he was escorted by Goldfinch and Wesley to the water, where a skiff being procured, he was placed in it, and rowed away by the latter, while the former returned to town. For a couple of hours he was thus borne along upon t he waters, until the noise of the city had died away in the distance, and the steady strokes of the oarsman, and the ripling of the light billows against the boat, were the only sounds audible. Suddenly the oars ceased; and thinking himself near the vessel, Davis was on the point of addressing Wesley, when the latter careened the boat, and with a vigorous shove plunged him headlong into the water. As he fell, the bandage slipped off, and he could just see the other rowing rapidly away, and the lights of the town far in the distance. He called to Wesley, and begged him, for the love of Heaven, not to leave him thus to die—but of course his entreaties were in vain. Being a good swimmer, Davis now struck out boldly for a small island about a mile to leeward; but ere he made two-thirds of the distance, he found his strength failing him rapidly. For tunately, he espied a log floating near which he managed to gain in a state of great exhaustion; and clinging to this, he floated away on the current, which was setting hard toward the open sea. In this manner he passed the night, and the next morning found himself at least ten miles from land, and still floating seaward. But it is not our design to detail his adventures, which of themselves would fill a volume. Suffice, then, that ere another night set in, he was picked up in a state bordering on unconsciousness, by a vessel bound on a trading voyage to the coast of Africa. This vessel was afterwards wrecked on that coast, and all aboard of her save Davis and another, perished. These latter might as well have been dead; for they were made prisoners by the blacks and subjected to the most brutal treatment. In fact, the companion of Davis was after wards murdered before his eyes, and his own life only preserved by a whim of the chief of the tribe, who fancied it would become his dignity to have a white slave. In this captivity Davis remained for three years, when he effected his escape and fortunately got on board a vessel bound for the Indies. Thence he sailed to Livverpool; and finally, after a great many perils and viscisitudes, landed in New York where, being seized with a fever and thrust out of doors, he was found by Edgar as pre viously related. On examination of the Courtly will, the alternations mentioned by Wesley were readily discovered; and notwithstanding the original writing had been extracted in the manner stated, still, on very close in spection, here and there a word, or a part of a word, faintly traced, could be detected. This, combined with the testimony of Davis and Wesley, was overwhelmin evidence against Goldfinch, and he was accordingly committed to the Tombs to take his trial at the next sitting of the criminal court. Incarcerated in the gloomy cell or prison; alone with his own guilty thoughts; abandoned by all who had once fawned around and flattered him; his previous deeds viewed alike with horror and contempt by the virtuous; his reputation and prospects in life blasted forever; his own children withdrawn from him by the strong hand of fate—the one a murderer, within the same strong walls that barred his own liberty, and about, it might be, to end his career on the gallows—the other a poor invalid, now left to the protection of strangers, perchance to finish her days in a mad-house; without a single hope to cheer the heavy hours that now rolled by more tardily than ever years had done before; the pale, thin specter of his deeply wronged and almost murdered sister continually before h
is mental vision: with all this to oppress him, Goldfinch now gave himself up to the wildest despair, a thousand times wished he had never been born, and would have put a quietus to his own existence, but that his guilty conscience trembled at the solemn thought of what might be his final doom in the great Hereafter. Now it was he saw and felt the fickle-heartedness of worldly friends—of those who fawn upon and hang around the rich while fortune is propitious, as the bee clings to the flower till its honey-sweets are exhausted— for of all his numerous acquaintances, including those he had looked upon as intimate associates, only some two or three called upon him in prison; and these, with the exception of one, more apparently for curiosity than friendship's sake. The exception was the Rev. Mr. Parkhurst, the man of all others Goldfinch most wished yet dreaded to behold. The clergyman, good soul, was deeply grieved; and though he was now aware he had been grossly deceived in the prisoner—whom he looked upon as a guilty being, who, while enacting the vilest deeds, had doubly perilled his soul by masking all under the semblance of holy religion—still his was a Christian spirit to overlook and forgive, and humbly hope and pray to see the tree give forth better fruits. He still urged upon Goldfinch the importance of faith in God, and reliance upon His mercy for par don of his many sins and transgressions, and begged him to seek that consolation in sincere repentance, which now, in every other manner, would be denied him. Goldfinch listened him through, with what patience his harrassed mind would allow, and then, without attempting dissimilation again, abruptly changed the subject to his daughter, the one which now bore the hardest upon his half distracted senses. But it was little consolation he received from the answers of the clergyman. Arabella had heard of her father's arrest, and that her brother was still a prisoner; and the effect had been to completely upset her reason. She was now an unconscious guest of Mr. Parkhurst, who, having no children of his own, promised to look faithfully to her welfare; and, in the event of her mind becoming sane, would, with her consent, adopt and make her heir to the little he possessed. In the course of a month from his arrest, Oliver Goldfinch was arraigned at the bar of justice to take his trial for the crime of forgery. Meantime a great sensation had been excited throughout the city and country, and the press in all quarters of the Union, and even in Europe, was teeming with details of the singular affair of both father and son, from the highest circles of aristocracy and fashion, being incarcerated in the same prison, at the same time, for two such flagrant outrages against the law of God and man. As the day of trial drew near, great efforts were made, by interested persons, to get the witnesses for the prosecution out of the way, by heavy bribes and threats of assassination—but all to no purpose.— Both Wesley and Davis appeared, and amid a court-room crowded almost to suffocation— while thousands without were forced to depart with their curiosity unsatisfied— gave in their testimony. The trial was not a long one; for the evidence was direct and positive—the will showed for itself—the prosecution summed up briefly—and though the counsel for the prisoner attempted to impeach the witnesses and made a labored defence, yet so rapidly was all carried through, that on the third day the judge gave his charge to the jury, who retired for half an hour, and brought in a verdict of "Guilty." The prisoner, pale, emaciated, and breathless with fearful excitement, heard the awful word of condemnation, and sank down with a groan of agony that for a time seemed to deprive him of consciousness. The judge, after proper deliberation, proceeded to make some very appropriate remarks on the heinousness of his crime; and winding up with the observation that he considered it a very aggravated case, sentenced Oliver Goldfinch to fifteen years hard labor in the state-prison. He was then, more dead than alive, remanded to his cell, to await his turn to be taken hence to serve out his term of sentence among the vilest of criminals. Before he left the city, the forger requested an interview with his daughter, who had, meantime, regained her reason, but was still in feeble health. Arabella— more like a specter than her former self— accompanied by the Rev. Mr. Parkhurst, who had done all in his power to restore her, and soften, by Godly counsel, her overwhelming affliction—waited upon him in prison, where, for an hour, father and daughter were closeted together. When Arabella came forth, it was with a tottering step; and being conducted to a carriage, she was conveyed to her present home, and again placed in bed, where she remained, her spirit hovering on the verge of eternity, for a period of several weeks. Goldfinch was also, at his own request, granted a parting interview with his guilty son; and when the jailor came in to separate them, he found both lying upon the floor and locked in each other's arms. They finally parted as two beings who fondly love, but expect never to behold each other again in mortal life; and the separation was such, that, hardened as he was in all manner of prison scenes, the jailor could not restrain a tear of pity at the awful doom they had justly drawn down upon themselves. The next morning, heavily ironed, like a common felon, the once proud, courted, opulent and philanthropic, but hypocritical and guilty Oliver Goldfinch, was borne from the city, a condemned criminal, to expiate, according to the law he had violated, his daring offence against the welfare of community. Farther, for the present, we shall follow him not, but leave him to justice and his fate.
Bennett, Emerson - Oliver Goldfinch Page 21
