The daily morning journal and courier., 1905-06-17

beinS caught and punlsheds he had planned too carefully for that. No. he was afraid he was going to die. He was a man of some imagination.
 with a strong sense of dramatic jus
 tice. Successfully had he defied the
 human power-his fellow men. But
 the power divine was So different; so
 incalculable, so impossible to provide
 against. He had made up his mind
 to defy 1t; he had defied it. And now
 that he had got his souls desire he had
 terrifying, oyerpowering feeling that
 all his schemeing was about to be
 brought to naught. He would die. T5e idea rooted itself in his mind. Before the train reached London there
 would be an accident, and in that acci-
 dent he would be killed. He was ter ribly afraid of dying, even of the phy- sical pain of death. He wondered | whether all would be over in an in-
 stant. or whether he would finger on
 some time. Where would the blow l strike He thought of crawling un-
 der the seat and lying there face down.
 ward. Then he half jumped up, with | the intention of pulling the communi-
 cation cord. but stopped as the idea oc-
 cured to him that this might be the
 very means by which the accident would be caused. No, Fate should do 1 its own work. and not in any way be
 helped by him.
 He wondered what the verdict of the coroner's jury would be; accidental | death or by the hand of God? Where
 would they bury him? There was no
 need for spite, as they would get their
 money back. That was a galling | thought; they would be able to laugh | at his failure; they would despise him.
 To be merely hated was not so bad as | to be both hated and despised. Could
 he balk them by hurling the money in- | to some river? But then if by any | chance divine justice should miss fire, | he would have cast away his riches for
 naught. No; while life was in him he would cling to his money bags. The train rumbled, groaned, jerked
 and then drew up just out side a small station. George ToWnley's agony | reached it's highest point. This would
 be tEe end. While his train was sta- | tionary another would burst into it
 from behind. Almost light headed with ] terror. he began to count the seconds | till the new train came. Presently he | felt a slight vibration, which increased with great rapidity, and then quite | close came the thunder of iron upon l iron. George Twonley shut his eyes, | and with his frienzied fingers gripping l the rack above him, waited for the
 crash. With shriek and a roar, the train for which his own had been wait
 ing rushed by on another line. Then
 his train moved on.
 George Townley's relief was only mo-
 mentarv. Two tunnels in quick suc- | cession left him wondering whether he were still alive Then came a long sub terranean station, and finally the great l terminus itself. Once more hope
 surged back into his heart. Divine jus
 tice- after all, was going to prove a l failure.
 Dizzily he rose to his feet, and with frantic fingers struggled to fasten up
 the straps of his bag. Even yet there
 was time for an accident, even yet some stupid signal man might send another train flying into them. De- | spite his feverish haste the other three | passengers all ambled out leisurely be- fore him. At last the bag was fas- tened and out he jumped. Halfway
 down the long platfrom he had hur- l ried before he discovered that his head was bare.
 | He would not go on without his hat; | it would make him too remarkable, and | hn nl, f0 ,.Iy I,
 rushed Then he found that he had forgotten his compartment. Tn and
 out of the compartments, one after the
 other, almost shrieking with rage and fear, he thrust his white, strained face, At last he had it, and at a shaky trot he hurried down the platform. There was a large crowd at the barrier, and
 he pushed his way into the midst of it.
 | Then he remembered that he had no | ticket. If he, offered to pay it would
 mean explanations and waiting till l everybody else had passed ;perhaps an
 other five minutes or more in the hor-
 rid, choking station. He would risk
 1t. The human current carried him
 up to the iron gate, and in as firm a
 voice as he could muster he said, | Season" and tried to pass.
 \ The ticket collector looked sharply at
 him and put out detaining hand. ! T beg your pardon, sir, but I must
 ask you to show your ticket.' ! T haven't it on me- stammered George Townley. T am in hurry,
 Kindly let me pass.'
 l T am afraid must ask you to stop
 and see the stationmaster,' said the man, .''Those are my orders. It won't take five minutes"
 Just as the last passenger was let through up came the stationmaster.
 Left your season ticket behind you, sir?'' he inuuired 'Will you kindly
 write your name and address in my
 book?" t
 \ In a senli-dazed condition, George | TownIey walked to the stationmaster' s room. Mechanically he took the pen l which was offered him and wrote the
 name and address.-The stationmaster l looked at the book, glanced swiftly at I the writer's face and whistled. | You are tired, sir,' he said respect fully. "Will you rest here a minute or two?" -v#1z.s=
 He shut up the book and placed it
 under his arm. Then he stepped out