It was impossible to repress Andy's wild delight; and in the excitement of the hour he tossed off bumper after bumper to all sorts of love-making toasts, till he was quite overcome by his potations, and fit for no place but bed. To this last retreat of “the glorious” he was requested to retire, and, after much coaxing, consented. He staggered over to the window-curtain, which he mistook for that of the bed; in vain they wanted to lead him elsewhere—he would sleep in no other bed but that—and, backing out at the window-pane, he made a smash, of which he seemed sensible, for he said it wasn't a fair trick to put pins in the bed. “I know it was Oonah did that!—hip!—ha! ha! Lady Scatterbrain!—never mind—hip!—I'll have my revenge on you yet!”
They could not get him up-stairs, so his mother suggested he should sleep in her room, which was on the same floor, for that night, and at last he was got into the apartment. There he was assisted to disrobe, as he stood swaying about at a dressing-table. Chancing to lay his hands on a pill-box, he mistook it for his watch.
“Stop—stop!” he stammered forth—“I must wind my watch;” and, suiting the action to the word, he began twisting about the pill-box, the lid of which came off and the pills fell about the floor. “Oh, murder!” said Lord Scatterbrain, “the works of my watch are fallin' about the flure—pick them up—pick them up—pick them up—” He could speak no more, and becoming quite incapable of all voluntary action, was undressed and put to bed, the last sound which escaped him being a faint muttering—“pick them up.”
CHAPTER THE LAST
The day following the eventful one just recorded, the miserable convict breathed his last. A printed notice was posted in all the adjacent villages, offering a reward for the apprehension of Shan More and “other persons unknown,” for their murderous assault; and a small reward was promised for such “private information as might lead to the apprehension of the aforesaid,” &c., &c. Larry Hogan at once came forward and put the authorities on the scent, but still Shan and his accomplices remained undiscovered. Larry's information on another subject, however, was more effective. He gave his own testimony to the previous marriage of Bridget, and pointed out the means of obtaining more, so that, ere long, Lord Scatterbrain was a “free man.” Though the depositions of the murdered man did not directly implicate Larry in the murderous attack, still it showed that he had participated in much of their villany; but, as in difficult cases, we must put up with bad instruments to reach the ends of justice, so this rascal was useful for his evidence and private information, and got his reward.
But he got his reward in more ways than one. He knew that he dare not longer remain in the country after what had taken place, and set off directly for Dublin by the mail, intending to proceed to England; but England he never reached. As he was proceeding down the Custom-house quay in the dusk of the evening, to get on ship-board, his arms were suddenly seized and drawn behind him by a powerful grasp, while a woman in front drew a handkerchief across his mouth, and stifled his attempted cries. His bundle was dragged from him, and the woman ransacked his pockets but they contained but a few shillings, Larry having hidden the wages of his treachery to his confederates in the folds of his neck-cloth. To pluck this from his throat, many a fierce wrench was made by the woman, when her attempts on the pockets proved worthless; but the handkerchief was knotted so tightly that she could not disengage it. The approach of some passengers along the quay alarmed the assailants of Larry, who, ere the iron grip released him, heard a deep curse in his ear growled by a voice he well knew, and then he felt himself hurled with gigantic force from the quay wall. Before the base, cheating, faithless scoundrel could make one exclamation, he was plunged into the Liffey—even before one mental aspiration for mercy, he was in the throes of suffocation! The heavy splash in the water caught the attention of those whose approach had alarmed the murderers, and seeing a man and woman running, a pursuit commenced, which ended by Newgate having two fresh tenants the next day.
And so farewell to the entire of the abominable crew, whose evil doings and merited fates have only been recorded when it became necessary to our story. It is better to leave the debased and the profligate in oblivion than drag their doings before the day; and it is with happy consciousness an Irishman may assert, that there is plenty of subject afforded by Irish character and Irish life honourable to the land, pleasing to the narrator, and sufficiently attractive to the reader, without the unwholesome exaggerations of crime which too often disfigure the fictions which pass under the title of “Irish,” alike offensive to truth as to taste—alike injurious both for private and public considerations.