Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in Solitude
for he had carefully tucked away in the inside pocket of his vest, just
over his heart, the little soiled piece of paper which told him in
unmistakable terms that his fortune was made, and the wedding ceremony
once over, that it was beyond all chance of change.
It would seem that the old lady, after her quarrel with her daughters,
went to the library in a rage and made the draft of a new will. The
chief change in it, as compared with the old genuine will which the
conspirators had destroyed, was that it was more favorable to Jane,
Ezra's wife to be. But what gave Ezra the greatest satisfaction was the
fact that Brea's wife was down by name in the new will for one dollar
lawful currency. The will was promptly filed and probated. Ezra gave
bonds and was appointed one of the executors, and he had what to him was
the immense satisfaction of denouncing Brea to his face as a forger and
villain.
Before the discovery of the new will, while it was believed that Mrs.
Brea was an heiress and her credit good, she and her husband had made
use of the fact, and had incurred debts to a large amount. Brea got his
wife to indorse his note for $10,000, and he borrowed that sum from the
bankers, but as soon as the true state of the case was known, his
creditors became clamorous and had him arrested on civil suits. Unable
to give bonds, he was locked up in Ludlow Street Jail, and there he
remained six months, until, acting upon Ezra's advice, the sisters
agreed to pay all his debts and give him and his wife $1,000 each if
they would live west of Chicago. This they were forced to accept, and
went to Montana. Brea opened a saloon at Butte City, but he never
recovered his spirits again. He became his own best customer, and that,
of course, meant ruin, but what, after all, killed him was the knowledge
that he had been for more than a score of days in full possession of
that old house and had spent scores of hours alone in the old library,
and yet had not discovered and destroyed the new will lying there at his
mercy.
The Sheriff soon sold out his saloon, while his wife eloped with his
best friend. Ruined in pocket, health and character, poor old Brea was
left bare to every storm that blew. One morning, as the sun was rising
over the town, surprising half a dozen belated gamblers in Ned Wright's
saloon as they were getting up to leave, they found lying across the
threshold the body of a man, ragged, emaciated, forlorn. It was Brea.
As soon as James had read the will he insisted upon having $5,000 from
Brea at once, and he got the money. But when that thunderbolt of the new
will fell on the two men, James sadly recognized that fortune and he
would shake hands no more, so far as this world is concerned, and he
resolved to chance returning to London before the whole of the $5,000 he
had from Brea was gone. To London he went; he lived a few years in
extreme poverty, driven to all manner of miserable shifts, and at last
died. This man died who ought to have been buried in Westminster Abbey,
so adding one more brilliant name to the long line of illustrious Lord
Chancellors from Thomas a Becket and Cardinal Wolsey down; but he,
hating his own soul, took the first step in wrongdoing, and, instead of
resting in the mighty Abbey and bequeathing his dust as a precious
legacy to succeeding generations, perished forlorn and alone, and was
buried in a pauper's grave.
CHAPTER XII.
RESTEZ ICI, MES ENFANTS.
We all landed in Liverpool in the highest spirits, and at once took the
train for London, enjoying the novelty of everything.
It was settled that George should pursue the venture alone in France,
while I should go with Mac to Germany to act as his second there. To
keep entirely clear myself, but at the same time to watch everything, to
exchange the German notes he obtained and to be ready to help if any one
should attempt to detain him.
Therefore, after completing certain preparations which required skill
and considerable business knowledge, we departed to execute this new
and, of course, last shuffle for fortune.
We had selected Berlin, Munich, Leipsic and Frankfort as the scenes of
our operations in Germany. In France we sought to operate in Bordeaux,
Marseilles and Lyons. At 8 p.m. Saturday we all crossed to Calais
together, where George said good-bye, and, leaving us to take the train
eastward to Berlin, he started west to Bordeaux. We were not to meet
again until after our hurried rush through the Continent and our return
to London with the proceeds. Before I give an account of Mac's adventure
and my own for the next three days I will here give George's narrative
in his own language, as related to us when we all met again in London:
After saying good-bye to you I arrived in Paris in due time, and
sauntered about for two hours until the train left for Bordeaux, where I
arrived at 8 o'clock Monday morning, and went at once to the Hotel
d'Orient, and after a bath and breakfast repaired to the bankers. As
soon as I presented my letters of introduction they received me with the
greatest consideration, lavishing every attention upon me, inviting me
to dinner and to a drive through the city afterward. I thanked them, and
explained that I was obliged to decline, as my agent was waiting for me
at Bayonne, where I had purchased some real estate, and, having been
recommended to their firm, I should feel obliged if they would cash my
draft for L2,000 and indorse it on my letter of credit. The manager
replied that it was the custom of the French bankers to require
twenty-four hours' notice before drawing a check, and asked me if the
next day would not answer. "We shall be happy to assist you," said he,
"in passing the time pleasantly." This was a new custom to me, but I
answered instantly, expressing regret that the nature of my business
precluded delay, it being necessary that I should reach Bayonne that
night. "I suppose," continued I, "that your bankers will not mind your
checking out a small sum without the usual notice. However, if it
occasions any embarrassment or inconvenience, I can easily procure the
money elsewhere." One of the partners replied that their bank would
without doubt honor their check, and the matter should be attended to at
once. I sat down for a half hour, conversing on a variety of topics. Of
course, this was a most trying period to me; the least show of haste or
anxiety might have betrayed me to those lynx-eyed, experienced men of
business. In the midst of our conversation an undercurrent of thought
kept running through my mind thus: "Who knows but they have sent a
dispatch to the Union Bank of London, merely as a matter of business
precaution, and that they are delaying me to get a reply? In that case I
shall have a good opportunity to learn the pure French accent while
passing my days in the Bagnio at Toulon." At last, however, the amount
was paid over to me in French bank notes. I deliberately counted them
and took leave, lighter in mind and heavier in purse by 50,000 francs.
I had arranged that I would send all the money I obtained to the Queen's
Hotel, London, by post at the earliest possible moment after receiving
it, that in the event of any accident to myself the money should be
safe.
After receiving the money I inclosed it in a large envelope, addressing
it to the hotel in London. I also wrote on the envelope: "Echantillons
de papier" (i. e., samples of paper), after which I threw it into the
postoffice.
As I wished to reduce the risk as much as possible (the train for
Marseilles not leaving for three hours), I took a carriage and told the
driver to take me toward the next station on the way to that city. After
we were fairly out in the country I got outside and sat with the driver,
chatting with him about the country we were driving through, arriving in
the village about half an hour before the train from Bordeaux was due. I
dismissed my driver at a small village cabaret (tavern), walked to the
station, got aboard the train, and early the next morning was in
Marseilles. I breakfasted at the Hotel d'Europe, and looked over the
papers to see if the Bordeaux fraud had been discovered. As I could see
no indication of it, about 10 a.m. I took a carriage and went to call on
Messrs. Brune & Co.
On making myself known I was, as usual, received with the utmost
courtesy, began to talk business, and one of the firm got into my
carriage and rode with me to his bank to effect the sale of my draft on
London for the sum of L2,500. Arriving at the bank I took a seat in the
front office, while Mr. Brune went into the manager's room to introduce
the transaction; the clerks eyed me, as I thought, suspiciously, but
doubtless only curiously, because they perceived I was a foreigner.
Another thing which I noticed sent a shiver through me. After Mr. Brune
had been a few minutes in the manager's room, the bank porter stepped to
the outer door, closed and locked it. It being but 12 o'clock, I
imagined the precautionary measure must be due to my presence. "The
Bordeaux affair is discovered and has been telegraphed all over France,"
was my first thought; "all is over with me. I am a candidate for a
French prison, sure."
These and a thousand other thoughts flashed through my mind during the
quarter of an hour preceding Mr. Brune's reappearance with his hands
full of bank notes. I could hardly believe my eyes. I had suppressed all
signs of the internal hurricane which raged during those prolonged
moments of suspense.
Now the revulsion of feeling was so great that I nearly fainted.
However, by a mental effort, I recovered my self-possession and
effectually masked all inward convulsions.
Mr. Brune placed in my hands 62,000 francs, in notes of the Bank of
France, and we then descended to the carriage and drove to my hotel,
where we parted. I paid my bill, and at once made preparations to start
for Lyons, which was to be the next and last scene of my operations in
France.
As my train did not leave for three hours, I got into a carriage at some
distance from the hotel and was driven toward the next station, located
on the beautiful bay a few miles from Marseilles.
After driving along the shore of the bay for some miles I remember we
met two women, dressed in the quaint costume common to that part of the
country, each carrying a basket of eggs. I stopped the carriage and
endeavored to enter into conversation with the pair, but could not
understand a word of their patois. I then took a couple of eggs, handed
out a silver franc piece, and drove on, leaving two astonished women
standing in the road, gazing alternately at the piece of money and at
the back of my carriage. Arriving at the station I found it would be an
hour and a half to train time, and driving to a hotel on the shore I
ordered dinner to be served in the upper room of a two-story tower
overlooking the bay, with Marseilles in the distance. After dining I
strolled along the beach, looking at some queer fish not found north of
the Mediterranean, their colors vying in brilliancy with the plumage of
tropical birds. Returning to the station I took a ticket for Lyons,
stopping off at Arles about sunset, as I wished to see the amphitheatre
and other relics of the Roman occupation.
I remained in Arles till midnight, then took the train, arriving in
Lyons at 9 the next morning. Repairing to the Hotel de Lyons I had
breakfast, and on looking over the papers became satisfied that as yet
no discovery had been made. Therefore, I resolved to carry out my third
and last financial enterprise and then return to London with all speed.
I called a carriage and drove at once to the establishment of Messrs.