But the excitement, the at times clamorous voice of conscience, and the unusual amount of stimulant he took, were together combining to produce fever of the blood and irritation of the brain in Arthur Franklyn.
When he started in a cab from his lodgings his landlady remarked, "Well, if this rushing about every day don't soon kill that poor gentleman, he must be made of iron."
No idea of the truth entered her mind. To conceal his intention of leaving England it had been necessary for him to invent and prevaricate and deceive in a way that twelve months before he would have shrunk from with shame and disgust. But principles of truth, honour, and rectitude, without the foundation of religion and the fear of God, are never to be relied on. In the hour of fierce temptation they had proved to Arthur Franklyn no stronger than a broken reed.
He reached the landing-place just below London Bridge at about noon, wishing to get on board early, as the vessel was timed to sail at seven in the evening.
He had been unable to resist another supply of the fiery fluid, early as it was, consoling himself with the reflection, "When I am on board I shall get over this unnatural craving for stimulants, and give up taking it."
But he had taken it once too often. His boxes were all on board, and he carried in his hand a carpet bag, containing among other things the fatal document which had already worked him so much evil.
He alighted from the cab, paid the driver, and proceeded towards the Australian packet, which lay alongside the wharf at a little distance from the shore. A plank stretched across from the gangway of the vessel rested on land, and men with boxes and other packages were passing to and fro upon it. Arthur Franklyn waited till the way was clear, then he placed his foot on the plank and approached the vessel. A very small portion of this frail bridge passed over water, the shore end resting on rising ground, and to a man with clear head and steady step there could be no possible danger.
But Arthur Franklyn's head was not clear, neither was his step steady, and as he approached the middle of the plank many persons on the bridge and about the wharf saw him totter and turn pale.
Speechless from alarm, and fearful of hastening a catastrophe by a warning word, no one moved or spoke as he raised his foot to go forward. The next moment, amidst the screams and shouts of the lookers-on, Arthur Franklyn lost his balance and fell with his carpet bag into the water, which closed over him pitilessly, as if in his helpless condition every effort to save him would be useless.
There were running to and fro, cries for ropes, and many eager hands stretched out when he rose to the surface; but the drowning man had neither sense nor power to help himself or seize the offered aid.