The age-herald., 1897-08-20
MY TERRIBLE PLIGHT.
By MRS. HENRY E. DUDENBY.
Tconvrigbt. 1s97, by tho Author. I

on that July evening in 1S--, when the mail train was swiftly carrying me from Liverpool to London.
 was young, my prospects were good, my business flourishing, and I was en- gagged to the girl of my heart-pretty Betty Davenport. Her name, by the way, was Eliza Ann, in compliment to wealthy godmother-a dreadful com- bination, which it's owner indignantly repudiated. IIr. Davenport was an en- gineer and had lately returned from South America. Betty had the reputa- tion of Being bit of flirt, and there was certain merchant at Buenos Ayres, James Andrews by name, whom her bright eyes and clear complexion had entirely yanquished. My sweetheart always looked serious when the mer- chants name was mentioned. Poor fell low On his side, at least, it was no idle filtration. Since the fair English girl refused him he had neglected his business and was on the highroad to ruin.
 Curiously enough, I had been mixed up with his affairs in q strange way.
 
 each other by name and repute, and as we were both in the wool trade I had been the unconscious means of discover ing big swindle, which he, as last desperate resource, had planned to save him from bankruptcy. The attempt failed-he was ruined. And by strange irony of fate the man who had won the girl he had wooed was instrumental in accelerating that ruin.
 So my thoughts ran as the train thun- dered through the black night.
 At Rugby another passenger got into my compartment, of which hitherto had been sole occupier. I had read the evening paper down to the advertise ments and had reread Betty's last let ter, so the prospect of chat was a well come one. The newcomer seemed as much inclined for conversation as I was, and we were soon chatting away on the thousand and one topics in which men of the world are interested. A chance allusion of mine to South Africa elicited the fact that he had spent some years of his life there, and this formed an additional reason for sociability, for before succeeded to my fathers Lon don business I had spent two years in the neighborhood of Kimberley pros pecting for gold. Apropos of the wild state of some parts of the country in- cidentally remarked that the custom ac- quired there of travelling armed still clung to me, and I, when on a journey, always carried pistol.
 "Quite an unusual precaution," added deprecatingly, Gin this peaceful old England of ours. t"
 q think it very sensible one," re- turned my companion. "One never knows when six shooter may not be useful, Would you let me see yours?"
 It was an unusual request, and for the moment rather staggered me- And as he bent forward l noticed that hls face was working curiously and his out stretched hands had trembled.
 The train slaekened speed. We were stopping at junction.
 The porter came along the platform with his monotonous chant, Change here for Chesham." He put his head in our carriage. "Either of you gentlemen for Chesham?" No, we were both bound for London, so the man took himself off. But he looked rather startled, and well ho might. By the light of the lan- tern he carried he had seen two men, one bent forward, pale and eager, the other holding pistol.
 handed the stranger my pistol for inspection. It was dainty thing. I was rather proud of it. My mate in South Africa had given it me, and my name was engraved on it.
 Horace Bligh," read my fellow trav- eler. "So you," with steady flame in his great eyes, "are Horace Bligh?'
 "That is my name," replied, rather disconcerted. The mans manner was certainly strange. He toyed with the pistol in dangerous way, and we were going at the rate of 50 miles an hour. It was not pleasant position to be placed in. began to regret my folly in complying with his request.
 I went on coolly: Perhaps you had better return me my property. Pretty thing, is it not? but loaded and there- fore unreliable. You are handling it carelessly, and it might go off. It will be safer in my pocket" reached out my hand in my turn, but my fellow traveller deftly evaded me. shall never forget the awful expression on his hag- gard face.
 "So you are Horace Bligh. We'll, I am James Andrews, the man you have ruined. Not only that you have taken the girl loved. I meant to kill myself if I had the chance. have it now. have also the means of revenge Icould shoot you where you stand, but I will not. Ireserve for you more hideous fate. Twill kill myself with your pistol, and ill such manner that suicide will appear improbable. On you will fall the suspicion-nay, the certainty-of guilt.
 rushed forward and tried to wrest the pistol from him. A brief struggle ensued, in which he, endowed with maniac strength, threw me to the floor of the carriage. Before could rise he placed the pistol in the middle of his forehead, fired, and fell dead.
 For one moment horror at the tragic <,f .olx