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
shall have that scoundrel at my mercy as there is a God in heaven.
What an experience, what a lesson, was that game of cards!"

"One," said the Colonel, "never to be repeated."

The Prince remained so long without replying, that Geraldine grew
alarmed.