removed all
uncertainty. The only hope remaining was, that Van Haubitz, although
carried rapidly away by the power of the current, had been able to
maintain himself on the surface, and had got ashore at some considerable
distance down the river, or had been picked up by a passing boat. But
this was a very feeble hope, and for my own part, and for more than one
reason, I placed no reliance on it. I left Madame Sendel to break the
painful intelligence to her daughter, and went home, promising to call
again in the morning.

As I had expected, nothing was heard of Van Haubitz, nor any vestige of
him found, save the foraging-cap I had picked up. Doubtless, the Rhine
had borne down his lifeless corpse to the country of his birth. The next
day Coblenz rang with the death of the unfortunate Dutchman. A stranger,
and unacquainted with the localities, he was supposed to have walked
over the quay by accident. I thought differently; and so I knew did
Madame Sendel and Emilie. I saw the former early the next day. She was
greatly cast down about her daughter, who had passed a sleepless night,
was very weak and suffering, but who nevertheless insisted on continuing
her journey the following morning.

"We must go," said her mother; "if we delay, Emilie loses her
engagement, and how can we both live on my poor jointure? Weeping will
not bring him back, were he worth it. To think of the misery he has
caused us!"

I ventured to hint an inquiry as to their means of prosecuting their
journey. The old lady understood the intention, and took it kindly. "But
she needed no assistance," she said; "Van Haubitz (and this confirmed
our strong suspicion of suicide) had given their little stock of money
into his wife's keeping only a few hours before his death."

That afternoon I left Coblenz for England.

* * * * *

On a certain Wednesday of the present year, after enjoying the excellent
acting of Bouffe in two of his best characters, I paused a moment to
speak to a friend in the crowded lobby of the St James's Theatre. Whilst
thus engaged, I became aware that I was an object of attention to two
persons, whom I had an indistinct notion of having seen before, but when
or where, or who they might be, I had not the remotest idea. One of them
was a comfortable-looking, middle-aged man, with a bald head, a smooth,
clean-shaven face, and an incipient ventral rotundity. His complexion
was clear and wholesome, his count