Mr. Cluyme ran his hand through his chop whiskers, and lowered his voice.

“You’re right, Hopper,” he assented.  “And if this city is going to be Union, we ought to know it right away.”

Stephen, listening with growing indignation to this talk, was unaware of a man who stood on the other side of the tree, and who now came forward before Mr. Hopper.  He presented a somewhat uncompromising front.  Mr. Cluyme instantly melted away.

“My friend,” said the stranger, quietly, “I think we have met before, when your actions were not greatly to your credit.  I do not forget a face, even when I see it in the dark.  Now I hear you utter words which are a disgrace to a citizen of the United States.  I have some respect for a rebel.  I have none for you, sir.”

As soon as Stephen recovered from the shock of his surprise, he saw that Eliphalet had changed countenance.  The manner of an important man of affairs, which he hay so assiduously cultivated, fell away from him.  He took a step backward, and his eyes made an ugly shift.  Stephen rejoiced to see the stranger turn his back on the manager of Carvel & Company before that dignitary had time to depart, and stand unconcernedly there as if nothing had occurred.

Then Stephen stared at him.

He was not a man you would look at twice, ordinarily, he was smoking a great El Sol cigar.  He wore clothes that were anything but new, a slouch hat, and coarse grained, square-toed boots.  His trousers were creased at the knees.  His head fell forward a little from his square shoulders, and leaned a bit to one side, as if meditatively.  He had a light brown beard that was reddish in the sun, and he was rather short than otherwise.

This was all that Stephen saw.  And yet the very plainness of the man’s appearance only added to his curiosity.  Who was this stranger?  His words, his action, too, had been remarkable.  The art of administering a rebuke like that was not given to many men.  It was perfectly quiet, perfectly final.  And then, when it was over, he had turned his back and dismissed it.

Next Stephen began to wonder what he could know about Hopper.  Stephen had suspected Eliphalet of subordinating principles to business gain, and hence the conversation with Mr. Cluyme had given him no shock in the way of a revelation, But if Hopper were a rogue, ought not Colonel Carvel to hear it?  Ought not he, Stephen Brice, to ask this man with the cigar what he knew, and tell Judge Whipple?  The sudden rattle of drums gave him a start, and cruelly reminded him of the gulf of prejudice and hatred fast widening between the friends.

All this time the stranger stood impassively chewing his cigar, his hand against the tree-box.  A regiment in column came out of the Arsenal gate, the Union leader in his colonel’s uniform, on horseback at its head.  He pulled up in the street opposite to Stephen, and sat in his saddle, chatting with other officers around him.