“Take up the money and use despatch—for my time is precious,” exclaimed Fitzgeorge.
The clerk followed the first suggestion with amazing alacrity; and his sinister countenance was now as radiant with joy as such a face could be.
“Your master is generous—very generous,” he said, as soon as the notes were secured in his waistcoat-pocket; “and I will serve him to the utmost of my power. The mad-house to which Sir Gilbert Heathcote has been consigned, is kept by Dr. Swinton, and is situated in the neighbourhood of the new church facing the end of the Bethnal Green Road.”
“I am well acquainted with the locality,” said Fitzgeorge. “The church you speak of is in the Cambridge Road, and stands at one of the angles of the Green?”
“Precisely so,” answered the clerk; “and the lunatic asylum looks upon the Green itself, its back windows commanding a view of Globe Town. But here is the exact address,” continued the man, producing a card from his pocket.
“That is all I require,” said Fitzgeorge. “Three days hence you can meet me here again; and if in the meantime I should have discovered that Sir Gilbert Heathcote is really confined in Dr. Swinton’s asylum, the other hundred pounds shall be handed over to you.”
The valet and the clerk then separated.
CHAPTER CLXXXVI.
DR. SWINTON.
The mad-house kept by Dr. Swinton was a spacious building, with a large garden, surrounded by a high wall, at the back.
It was by no means a gloomy-looking place, although the casements were protected by iron bars: for to mitigate that prison-like effect, the curtains were of a cheerful colour, and the window-sills were adorned with flowers and verdant evergreens in bright red pots. Moreover, the front of the house was stuccoed; and wherever paint was used, the colours were of the gayest kind.