we go from this accursed spot?"

"Yes," said the Prince. "Call a cab in Heaven's name, and let me

try to forget in slumber the memory of this night's disgrace."

But it was notable that he carefully read the name of the court

before he left it.

The next morning, as soon as the Prince was stirring, Colonel

Geraldine brought him a daily newspaper, with the following

paragraph marked:-

"MELANCHOLY ACCIDENT. - This morning, about two o'clock, Mr.

Bartholomew Malthus, of 16 Chepstow Place, Westbourne Grove, on his

way home from a party at a friend's house, fell over the upper

parapet in Trafalgar Square, fracturing his skull and breaking a

leg and an arm. Death was instantaneous. Mr. Malthus, accompanied

by a friend, was engaged in looking for a cab at the time of the

unfortunate occurrence. As Mr. Malthus was paralytic, it is

thought that his fall may have been occasioned by another seizure.

The unhappy gentleman was well known in the most respectable

circles, and his loss will be widely and deeply deplored."

"If ever a soul went straight to Hell," said Geraldine solemnly,

"it was that paralytic man's."

The Prince buried his face in his hands, and remained silent.

"I am almost rejoiced," continued the Colonel, "to know that he is

dead. But for our young man of the cream tarts I confess my heart

bleeds."

"Geraldine," said the Prince, raising his face, "that unhappy lad

was last night as innocent as you and I; and this morning the guilt

of blood is on his soul. When I think of the President, my heart

grows sick within me. I do not know how it shall be done, but I

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