The paper prospered.  The multitude enjoyed its sharp, short, stinging paragraphs; its vim and vehemence.  At length its columns were turned against Major Selover with unrestrained virulence.  He had no equal means of reply or defence at his command, but he had at last uttered threats of personal nature, and published King as a liar, a swindler and a coward.  To all this Mr. King responded in his Bulletin, by stating in that paper that he defied Selover; and he went on to state the place of his residence; the time he left home to go to his office in the morning; the route thither he usually took:  and also the same details of his customary way home every afternoon.  Selover, or any other person who felt aggrieved on account of anything which appeared in the Bulletin was similarly apprised, and thus dared or invited to encounter him on the street.  To all of which was added the significant remark for the consideration of Selover particularly, and all others generally:  “God have mercy upon my assailant.”  There was no mistaking this language.  And the common opinion was that whatever else would be said of James King of William, he was a game and fearless man.  Casey’s own statement of the deplorable affair — made in his cell to a friend who had been permitted to visit him in his four by eight feet cell, the day before his death, in the presence and hearing of the guard then on duty, was substantially as follows:  that after all Mr. King had said in his paper, any one who attacked him should be well prepared against the worst to himself; that, accordingly, after he had called early that afternoon upon Mr. King, in his office, and told him what would be the consequence in case the Bulletin should publish the matter against him, and it was published, he very naturally expected that King would be prepared for the encounter.  But as he did not wish to take first advantage of him, but to allow him fair chance, he cried out to him to prepare, and then fired.  He expected Mr. King to return the fire.  He did not know whether the ball had hit King or not, because King’s loose talina covered his upper body and prevented him from seeing its effect.  That — to use Casey’s own words — “seeing he did not fire, and believing him a dung-hill,’ I did not shoot again, but turned to walk away, when I saw him falling; then I knew that I must have hit him, and I went to the City Hall to surrender myself.”

To the same person, on the occasion first above referred to — and Casey knew then that his death was certain at the hands of the Committee — he remarked that he had no fear of death; that he would meet it with composure, although he did not deserve it; that which troubled him was that his aged mother should be told that her son was a murderer.  This pained him.  She lived in New York.  He had regularly remitted money to her to maintain her in comfort in her old age; and now she must suffer privation and misery, with the great burden of the knowledge of the manner of his death to weigh her down to the grave.  He wished to say something of a confidential nature to his visitor, but the guard refused to permit this, and said that he must hear everything that was uttered.  He stood close to Casey all the time, and maintained the utmost severity of demeanor, the most inexorable nature, during the brief time allowed for the visit.