My blood was on fire. I no longer trembled or hesitated. I felt as if
every nerve was iron, and every pulse instinct with deadly purpose. She
was in my power, and I would be revenged. She should die--she, for whom
I had stained my soul with my friend's blood! She should die, in the
plenitude of her wealth and her beauty, and no power upon earth should
save her!

The stations flew past. I put on more steam; I bade the fireman heap in
the coke, and stir the blazing mass. I would have outstripped the wind,
had it been possible. Faster and faster--hedges and trees, bridges and
stations, flashing past--villages no sooner seen than gone--telegraph
wires twisting, and dipping, and twining themselves in one, with the
awful swiftness of our pace! Faster and faster, till the fireman at my
side looks white and scared, and refuses to add more fuel to the furnace.
Faster and faster, till the wind rushes in our faces and drives the
breath back upon our lips.

I would have scorned to save myself. I meant to die with the rest. Mad
as I was--and I believe from my very soul that I was utterly mad for the
time--I felt a passing pang of pity for the old man and his suite. I
would have spared the poor fellow at my side, too, if I could; but the
pace at which we were going made escape impossible.

Vicenza was passed--a mere confused vision of lights. Pojana flew by.
At Padua, but nine miles distant, our passengers were to alight. I saw
the fireman's face turned upon me in remonstrance; I saw his lips move,
though I could not hear a word; I saw his expression change suddenly from
remonstrance to a deadly terror, and then--merciful Heaven! then, for the
first time, I saw that he and I were no longer alone upon the engine.

There was a third man--a third man standing on my right hand, as the
fireman was standing on my left--a tall, stalwart man, with short curling
hair, and a flat Scotch cap upon his head. As I fell back in the first
shock of surprise, he stepped nearer; took my place at the engine, and
turned the steam off. I opened my lips to speak to him; he turned his
head slowly, and looked me in the face.

Matthew Price!

I uttered one long wild cry, flung my arms wildly up above my head, and
fell as if I had been smitten with an axe.

* * * * *

I am prepared for the objections that may be made to my story. I expect,
as a matter of course, to be told that this was an optical il