"A very few hours will now decide the question," said Claudia, abandoning the discussion and beginning to chip her egg. At this moment came a sound of wheels on the drive before the house, followed by a loud knock at the door. "There! I should not in the least wonder if that is a detachment of police coming to tell us that Lord Vincent has broken prison, and bringing a warrant to search this house for him," said Claudia, half rising to listen. A servant entered the room and said: "Sergeant McRae is out in the hall, asking to see his honor the judge." "I thought so," said Claudia briskly. The judge went out to see the sergeant of police. Claudia and Berenice suspended their breakfast, and waited in intense anxiety the result of the interview. Some little time elapsed, perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes, though the impatience of the ladies made it seem an hour in length; and then the door slowly opened and the judge gravely re-entered the breakfast room. "It is as I said. The Viscount Vincent has broken jail and they have come here with a search warrant to look for him!" exclaimed Claudia, glancing up at her father as he approached; but when she saw the expression of profound melancholy in his countenance, she started, turned pale, and cried: "Good Heaven, papa, what--what has happened?" "Partly what you have anticipated, Claudia. The Viscount Vincent has broken out of prison, but not in the manner you supposed," solemnly replied the judge, taking his daughter's arm and leading her to a sofa and seating her upon it. Lady Hurstmonceux, startled, anxious, and alarmed, followed and stood by her and held her hand. And both ladies gazed inquiringly into the disturbed face of the old man. "There is something--something behind! What is it, papa? The viscount has broken jail, you say! Has he--has he--killed one of the guards in making his escape?" inquired Claudia, in a low, awe- stricken voice. "No, my dear, he has not done that. He has escaped the tribunal of man to rush uncalled to the tribunal of God," said the judge solemnly. Claudia, though her dilated eyes were fixed in eager questioning on the face of her father, and though her ears were strained to catch his low-toned words, yet did not seem to gather in his meaning. "What--what do you say, papa? Explain!" she breathed in scarcely audible syllables. "The Viscount Vincent is dead!" "Dead!" ejaculated Claudia. "Dead!" echoed the countess. "Dead, by his own act!" repeated the judge. Claudia sank back in the corner of the sofa and covered her face with her hands--overcome, not by sorrow certainly, but by awe and pity. Berenice sat down beside the newly made widow, and put her arms around her waist, and drew her head upon her bosom. Judge Merlin stood silently before them. The only one who seemed to have the full possession of his faculties was Ishmael.