The morning papers on the following day contained the announcement of Colonel Charles Clery's sudden death, and after devoting some space to a brief outline of his career, concluded with the following sentences:

“The late colonel dined the night before his death at the house of the Marquis of Kingsbury, in Park lane. He appeared to be in excellent health and spirits, and left some time after midnight with the Comte de Vaugelade, in whose company he walked up Piccadilly. The count is reported to be the last person who saw him alive.

A couple of days later, and before Frederick had had an opportunity of calling again at Park lane, a well-known society paper, renowned for the venom of its attacks and for the correctness of its information, published the following paragraph:

“Who is the Comte de Vaugelade, the foreign nobleman, in whose company the late Colonel Clery was last seen alive? We are informed, both at the Belgian Legation and at the French Embassy, that the name and the title are extinct.”

These words caught Frederick's eye as he was glancing over the papers after his early breakfast in the privacy of his own room three days after Colonel Clery's death. He immediately realized that this, together with Lady Alice's mysterious words, was making London too hot for him. It was a great disappointment to have to leave England just as he believed that he was on the point of obtaining his heart's fondest wish—namely, a wife belonging to a wealthy and [Pg 177] noble family, who would place her husband for once and all in the sphere to which he was born. He could then have left his career of adventurer far behind him, and lived the untrammeled life of a gentleman of means and leisure, respected and honored by all.

Men, according to the old Greeks, were the toys of the gods, who, from their high estate in Olympus, put evil and foul instincts and desires into their mortal hearts, and then, when the evil actions became the outlet of evil thoughts, amused themselves by watching the fruitless efforts made by their victims to escape a cruel and merciless goddess, called Nemesis, who stood there ready to punish them. The gods may have enjoyed it, but how about the poor mortals? In these days of skepticism and unbelief we have dropped this deity, but only to replace her by another, whom we have christened Fate, and whom we use as a scapegoat upon which to lay the blame of our own shortcomings. The true religion of Fate, however, is that our lives are the outcome of our actions. Every action, good or bad, has its corresponding reward—as Frederick found to his cost.

He resolved to leave London without delay; but, fearing that if he traveled via Dover or Folkestone, he might meet a number of his English acquaintances, and thereby attract attention—a thing he particularly wished to avoid—he determined to take the train for Southampton that very afternoon, and thence to proceed to St. Malo, on the coast of Brittany.

Before his departure, he wrote a long letter to Lady Kingsbury, informing her that to his great sorrow he had been called away by his only sister's dangerous illness, and that, having no time to come and ............