d also left Thorpe Ambrose, for a few days
only, on business which required his presence in London. The business
took him into the City. Annoyed by the endless impediments in the
streets, he returned westward by one of the river steamers, and, so
returning, met his death.

As the steamer left the wharf, he noticed a woman near him who had shown
a singular hesitation in embarking, and who had been the last of the
passengers to take her place in the vessel. She was neatly dressed in
black silk, with a red Paisley shawl over her shoulders, and she kept
her face hidden behind a thick veil. Arthur Blanchard was struck by the
rare grace and elegance of her figure, and he felt a young man's passing
curiosity to see her face. She neither lifted her veil nor turned her
head his way. After taking a few steps hesitatingly backward and forward
on the deck, she walked away on a sudden to the stern of the vessel. In
a minute more there was a cry of alarm from the man at the helm, and
the engines were stopped immediately. The woman had thrown herself
overboard.

The passengers all rushed to the side of the vessel to look. Arthur
Blanchard alone, without an instant's hesitation, jumped into the river.
He was an excellent swimmer, and he reached the woman as she rose again
to the surface, after sinking for the first time. Help was at hand, and
they were both brought safely ashore. The woman was taken to the nearest
police station, and was soon restored to her senses, her preserver
giving his name and address, as usual in such cases, to the inspector on
duty, who wisely recommended him to get into a warm bath, and to send to
his lodgings for dry clothes. Arthur Blanchard, who had never known an
hour's illness since he was a child, laughed at the caution, and went
back in a cab. The next day he was too ill to attend the examination
before the magistrate. A fortnight afterward he was a dead man.

The news of the calamity reached Henry Blanchard and his son at Milan,
and within an hour of the time when they received it they were on their
way back to England. The snow on the Alps had loosened earlier than
usual that year, and the passes were notoriously dangerous. The father
and son, traveling in their own carriage, were met on the mountain by
the mail returning, after sending the letters on by hand. Warnings which
would have produced their effect under any ordinary circumstances were
now vainly addressed to the two Englishmen. Their impat