Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1897-05-28

lifted my hand to my pocket. 1t was
empty. In the hurry of my impulsive
fight l had left behind the evidence
that would convict me. had forgotten
the pistol.
1t was impossible to go home They
had my name. My address was in the
directory. 1 should be arrested before
daybreak. l called to the driver to 90
to Leicester square, staid till closing
time, then wandered about London.
Then l went into a cafe, trying to de-
eide on my plan of action. To fly the
country was the first course that sug-
gested itself. Then l remembered the
vigilance with which the ports are
watched when a supposed criminal is
at large. So 1 wandered ON for hours,
wavering miserably. l would put a
brave front on the matter and confess
my share in the tragedy; l would take
train to Newhaven and cross to France;
would hide in some obscure part Of
London and await the turn affairs took.
1t was by this time past 8 O'Clock,
and was walking along the Hamp-
stead road, weary and disheveled with
my journey Of the previous night, when
a newsboy decided me. He carried a
bundle of papers under his arm, post
er in front of him, and in black letters
a foot long 1 read: Outrage on the
Liverpool line. Important clew to sup
posed murderer.
That poster shaped my course. Invent
into a barber's shop and had my mus
tache shaved off Then took a couple
of rooms in street near Kentish Town
Here 1 lived, lay quiet, so to speak, for
three horrible days.
had never earned the reputation of
cowardice, yet the immediate result of
that unhappy flight was my transforma-
ton into an abject craven. l started
violently at the landladys tap at my
door, at a strange step on the stair.
With the example of another case be-
fore me, a case which a short time be-
fore had greatly reused the public mind,
l was afraid to keep entirely to the
house lest my landlady should suspect
my identity and hand me over to the
police. On the other hand, 1 ran great
risk in going out, for on every blank
wall my own likeness confronted me. A
thousand times 1 cursed my folly in act
ing as l did. And each day, each new
edition Of the papers, increased the diff
Guilty Of retrieving that folly.
read them all-that the police had
an important clew; that two or three
unlucky men had been arrested, to be
promptly discharged when they proved
their nonidentity with my unhappy self.
/ read distorted accounts of my mode of
life, full of faulty family histories.
was hiding in the east end; l had evaded
the detectives and had reached Spain.
Fortunately I was not in Porter street,
Kentish Town. And ON the third night
an evening paper mentioned that the
young lady to whom Mr.. Bligh had
been engaged was rendered PROSTATE by
the blow which had fallen on her, and
that her friends proposed taking her
abroad.
The paper dropped from my hands.
All. my bright Bettyi What would 1
not give for sight of her dear faoer
And why should 1 not see herr l
wrote an advertisement and sent it for
insertion in the "agony column Of The
Times.
In the old happy days my pet name
| for Betty was my Maiden Aunt" This
sobriquet she earned from certain
sage way she had Of giving me counsel
and prettily advising in an elderly rela-
tive way ON business matters, etc. +,
which she did not understand in the
least. So my message ran thus: IF
Maiden Aunt will call at Porter
street, Kentish Town, ON Thursday, she
will see her nephew, who is in London
| for the day"
About o'clock on Thursday the door
Of my sitting room was thrown open,
and Betty, thickly yelled, ran in. Poor
little grill When had bid her farewell
at her fathers house fortnight before,
she had been rosy and radiant, daintily
dressed. Now her clothes were careless
ly huddled on, her cheeks were thin
and pale, her great blue eyes were dim
med and mournful.
Our conversation would not be Of gen
eral interest-lovers' dialogues rarely
are-but before my sweetheart left me
had decided, come what might, to
make clean breast of the matter
Betty, who was of the nervous, not
the heroic, type Of woman, vainly tried
10 dissuade me.
"They will hang you," she sobbed
and kissed me wildly, "or sentence you
to penal servitude for life. I know they
will"
Nonsense" 1 said and tried to
soothe her. "They can't hang. They
cannot even convict on such evidence.
was a fool. a madTuan, ever to shirk
facing an inquiry. That is the blacklist
thing they have against me-"
Yes" cried the poor child vehe-
mently, 'and it is just black enough,
combined with other things, to make
them send you to prison, orr with q
strong shudder-"worse.
"They have a really strong case.
There is the evidence Of the porter,
who saw you with the pistol in your
hand, pointed at Andrews, so he says,
only you tried to hide it when he came
TO the door. And the medical men say
that though the suicide theory is posi-
BILE it is most unlikely, as when a mar
attempts self destruction he invariably
places the weapon at his temple or il
his mouth-not as Andrews did, in the
middle Of his forehead. 1t all reads very
convincing, my poor boy, to people WHIT
do not know you are innocent, as do
"Stay here, Horace, and 1 will com'
and see you when can. We are not go