most remarkable, this very compartment of
this very carriage, number one hundred smack
and fifty-three, was the scene of the extraordinary
occurrence to which I smack refer."

"You interest me extremely," I answered,
"and, were not the remembrance apparently
too painful, I should be tempted to inquire
further."

"So far smack, my dear smack sir, from
suffering in the recital, I find it my only real smack
comfort," sighed the traveller; "especially when,
as in the present instance, I am smack certain of
such smack attention."

"You do me only justice, sir; I shall listen
with the utmost interest. And I beg you will not
spare me the minutest detail," said I, settling
myself comfortably in my seat.

"Then here smack goes," rejoined my
companion, brightening up with amazing suddenness,
and slipping his handkerchief into his pocket.

Thus (for the sake of brevity, I omit the
smacks) proceeded his narrative:

"It was, as I have said, the Anniversary of
this day, the very dawn of that changeful month
which, I have generally observed, however it may
end, almost invariably commences with a smile,
that two persons took their seats in this identical
carriage, number one hundred and fifty-three.
The one was a man of sixty-four or five, tall and
dignified, his manner and bearing characterised
by that kind of languid grace which betokens
the highest breeding. He was wrapped in a
coat lined with costly furs, and wore a travelling-
cap with gold band, from which peeped forth
brown and glossy curls, 'the skull that bred
them in the sepulchre'—in fact, a wig.

"He was accompanied by a young lady of
handsome, but, how shall I characterise them?
determined features; large grey, searching eyes;
a cold, fixed mouth, as if the teeth within were
in a state of continual clench; altogether, a
masterful aspect, which, allowing temper to
correspond, would induce a person of moderately
weak nerves to prefer the society of a fine young
panther, and, which, in the present instance,
certainly suggested the idea of the old gentleman's
being rather in her custody, than in her
company. These two were, like ourselves today,
the only tenants of the compartment.

"The train, sir, proceeded on its way, and, in
due course, entered the Long Tunnel; in the
middle of which three plate-layers were at the
moment engaged in some work or inspection.
Their names (you asked for the minutest details)
were Michel O'Loughlin, Cornelius Podgerbot,
and David Llewellyn Jones. O'Loughlin had a
wife and three children; also an aunt, who suffered
from rheumatism. But these particulars, though
mentioned in deference to your wish, are, in
effect, not material to the story.

"The men I speak of, had plenty of notice of the
train's approach, and retired, with their torches,
into one of the small recesses provided for such
occasions. Half an hour later, the three emerged
from the tunnel pale and agitated, and, hurrying
to the nearest station, made a most extraordinary
statement.

"They affirmed that, at the moment of the
train's passing the recess, when, consequently,
the glare of their torches fell right upon the passing
objects, they beheld an old gentleman and a
young lady engaged in a desperate struggle, each
making frantic efforts to force the other from the
carriage, the door of which swung open.

"No cries could be distinguished in the wild
roar of the train, but if any were uttered it was
not by the female combatant, whose white
resolute face, glowing eyes, and set teeth, were
perfectly, though but for an instant, revealed to the
horrified witnesses. Her hands were buried in
the furs about the neck of her antagonist, much
as a tiger might clutch a deer, and the man
appeared in the act of succumbing to her superior
force. A few yards more, and an object was
distinctly seen to fall from the carriage. The
door swung to; the train whirled away.

"Hurrying to the spot where the body was seen
to fall, the men commenced an eager search;
strange to say, nothing could be found! Some
spots that looked like blood, were certainly
distinguishable on the surface of the rail; some bits
of rent fur, a glove; but where was the mangled
and disabled body? They examined, as they
thought, every square inch up to the tunnel's
mouth—perhaps a hundred yards—when one of
the party, who had returned a pace or two for
closer scrutiny, uttered a sudden shout, which
brought the others to his side.

"It was Michael O'Loughlin, who was standing,
with his torch uplifted, gazing with starting eyes,
like a shying horse, at some object on the ground.
It was a woman's foot; a foot, small and delicately
moulded, clothed in an open-worked silk stocking,
and a purple jean slipper with a rosette.
It was set firmly on the earth, protruding,
as it were, from the dark side-wall of the tunnel.
Thus, coming suddenly into the light of the
torches, it seemed as though the body to which
it belonged, concealed within, had put forth its
lower extremity in order to trip up the startled
searcher.

"'Why, blow me! here is a game!' was the
natural comment of Cornelius Podgerbot.
'However did she get in there?'

"'Anyhow, it's a pretty little foot as ever I see,'
remarked Llewellyn Jones.

"He stooped to touch it, but jumped back in
horror, as a man might who had grasped a snake
for a twig. It had come away in his hand! Sir,
the foot had been cut clean off, about three
inches above the ankle. No blood was visible;
the vessels were clearly exhausted. There was
scarcely any stain or discoloration, and the
severed organ looked more like an exquisite
imitation of nature, than a limb torn with violence
from the parent trunk.

"But where was the body? The walls were
intact; there was no place of concealment, no
excavation where such an object could by any
possibility have escaped their scrutiny. After a