Lord Bill, a bit of a wag, made a remark that I did not catch, about the Jews and their nobleman, which sent Weldon into a convulsion of laughter. He then turned to me and began to repeat it for my benefit. Just at that moment the train came rushing into the station. Weldon stood near the edge of the platform with his back to the line, glancing sideways at the Jews and trying to restrain his mirth. I had bent my head the better to hear Lord Bill, who was a short man, but my eyes were on Weldon. Conceive my surprise to observe him stagger backwards of a sudden, as though he had been struck on the forehead. He uttered a startled cry and clawed the air with both hands. For a brief second he tottered at an angle as though he held on to something which supported him. But next instant, as if carried off his feet by a great rush of wind, he went back, back--over the edge of the platform, and before I could move a muscle or utter a word he had fallen and was lying on the rails under the very wheels of the onrushing engine. Men shouted, women shrieked. I sprang forward, and hardly aware of the peril would have leaped upon the line, but that a dozen hands restrained me. It would have meant infallibly my death as well as Weldon's, for the train was not more than a dozen feet off. But I was incapable of reasoning at the moment. I struggled like a madman with my captors and broke away from them at last--to stand dazedly staring at the engine for some horrid seconds. It had stopped. But had it----? With a great effort I dragged myself forward. The edge of the platform was lined with a crowd of white-faced, silent people. They made room for me. Several railway officials were stooping over a frightful object lying between the pavement and the nearest iron rail. One of them shouted for a doctor, and there was an immediate movement in the crowd. Two or three men set off through the station at a run. I closed my eyes. I had never been so shaken in my life. I had never lost my self-control so utterly. The wheels of the engine had completely amputated both poor Weldon's legs midway between the knee and trunk. There followed a hiatus in my reckoning. When I came properly to my senses I was hard at work tying up the arteries, assisted by a medical student who had been a passenger in the fatal train, and a nurse who had apparently been holiday-making on the river. I remember how anxious she was to save her pretty muslin gown from the spouting blood. Presently a surgeon who had been called, appeared armed with proper instruments. With his aid I hastily replaced the imperfect tourniquets I had improvised out of kerchiefs and neckcloths with gutta percha bandages, and we removed poor Weldon from the station to the villa of a gentleman who had charitably placed his house at our disposal. From the very first I felt that there was no hope. Not only had my luckless friend lost his limbs and an immense quantity of blood, but he had suffered internal injuries and a severe