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Well-regulated people will be pleased to hear that Nemesis, which is always supposed to await such evil-doers, came down upon them at last. One autumn night, as they were crossing the lake after dining at the Beau Rivage with an American gentleman and his family, a sudden storm swept down and overset their little boat. Nugent came to the surface at once, and, being a splendid swimmer, struck out, swimming round and round in search of Julie. The night was very dark, and it is probable, encumbered by the weight of her clothing, she never rose; it is certain that Nugent never saw her again, and that his own life was only saved by his being dragged on to the bottom of the boat, when half-dead with exhaustion, by the servant, who had already found a refuge there.

When Nugent Uffington recovered from the illness consequent upon the cold and exhaustion, he broke up the little establishment at the châlet and disappeared, no one knew where. Letters were occasionally read from men who thought they had seen him, but they were from such diverse latitudes that no reliance could be placed upon them; and when his nephew Sir Mark Uffington died, the lawyers did not know where to write to Nugent to tell him of his succession. That was the key-note struck by Tom Lydyeard in their conversation.