“You his first cousin?—­it is impossible!” said Walters.

“You’ll discover it is not only possible, but true—­I am, as I said, Mr. Garie’s first cousin!”

“If you are that, you are more,” said Walters, fiercely—­“you’re his murderer!” At this charge Mr. Stevens turned deathly pale.  “Yes,” continued Walters; “you either murdered him, or instigated others to do so!  It was you who directed the rioters against both him and me—­I have proof of what I say and can produce it.  Now your motive is clear as day—­you wanted his money, and destroyed him to obtain it!  His blood is on your hands!” hissed Walters through his clenched teeth.

In the excitement consequent upon such a charge, Mr. Stevens, unnoticed by himself, had overturned a bottle of red ink, and its contents had slightly stained his hands.  When Walters charged him with having Mr. Garie’s blood upon them, he involuntarily looked down and saw his hands stained with red.  An expression of intense horror flitted over his face when he observed it; but quickly regaining his composure, he replied, “It’s only a little ink.”

“Yes, I know that is ink,” rejoined Walters, scornfully; “look at him, Balch,” he continued, “he doesn’t dare to look either of us in the face.”

“It’s false,” exclaimed Stevens, with an effort to appear courageous; “it’s as false as hell, and any man that charges me with it is a liar.”

The words had scarcely passed his lips, when Walters sprang upon him with the ferocity of a tiger, and seizing him by the throat, shook and whirled him about as though he were a plaything.

“Stop, stop!  Walters,” cried Mr. Balch, endeavouring to loose his hold upon the throat of Mr. Stevens, who was already purple in the face; “let him go, this violence can benefit neither party.  Loose your hold.”  At this remonstrance, Walters dashed Stevens from him into the farthest corner of the room, exclaiming, “Now, go and prosecute me if you dare, and I’ll tell for what I chastised you; prosecute me for an assault, if you think you can risk the consequences.”

Mr. Balch assisted him from the floor and placed him in a chair, where he sat holding his side, and panting for breath.  When he was able to speak, he exclaimed, with a look of concentrated malignity, “Remember, we’ll be even some day; I never received a blow and forgot it afterwards, bear that in mind.”

“This will never do, gentlemen,” said Mr. Balch, soothingly:  “this conduct is unworthy of you.  You are unreasonable both of you.  When you have cooled down we will discuss the matter as we should.”

“You’ll discuss it alone then,” said Stevens, rising, and walking to the door:  “and when you have any further communication to make, you must come to me.”

“Stop, stop, don’t go,” cried Mr. Balch, following him out at the door, which they closed behind them; “don’t go away in a passion, Mr. Stevens.  You and Walters are both too hasty.  Come in here and sit down,” said he, opening the door of a small adjoining room, “wait here one moment, I’ll come back to you.”