of Big Ben had scarcely throbbed into the night, before a sharp detonation rang about the house. The prince sprang for the door by which I had entered; but quick as he was, I yet contrived to intercept him.

‘Are you armed?’ I cried.

‘No, madam,’ replied he. ‘You remind me appositely; I will take the poker.’

‘The man below,’ said I, ‘has two revolvers. Would you confront him at such odds?’

He paused, as though staggered in his purpose.

‘And yet, madam,’ said he, ‘we cannot continue to remain in ignorance of what has passed.’

‘No!’ cried I. ‘And who proposes it? I am as curious as yourself, but let us rather send for the police; or, if your highness dreads a scandal, for some of your own servants.’

‘Nay, madam,’ he replied, smiling, ‘for so brave a lady, you surprise me. Would you have me, then, send others where I fear to go myself?’

‘You are perfectly right,’ said I, ‘and I was entirely wrong. Go, in God’s name, and I will hold the candle!’

Together, therefore, we descended to the lower story, he carrying the poker, I the light; and together we approached and opened the door of the butler’s pantry. In some sort, I believe, I was prepared for the spectacle that met our eyes; I was prepared, that is, to find the villain dead, but the rude details of such a violent suicide I was unable to endure. The prince, unshaken by horror as he had remained unshaken by alarm, assisted me with the most respectful gallantry to regain the dining-room.

There we found our patient, still, indeed, deadly pale, but vastly recovered and already seated on a chair. He held out both his hands with a most pitiful gesture of interrogation.

‘He is dead,’ said the prince.

‘Alas!’ cried the young man, ‘and it should be I! What do I do, thus lingering on the stage I have disgraced, while he, my sure comrade, blameworthy indeed for much, but yet the soul of fidelity, has judged and slain himself for an involuntary fault? Ah, sir,’ said he, ‘and you too, madam, without whose cruel help I should be now beyond the reach of my accusing conscience, you behold in me the victim equally of my own faults and virtues. I was born a hater of injustice; from my most tender years my blood boiled against heaven when I 

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