The house of Charles Stevens stood in Ninth Street, close to Chestnut. The building was set back from the street and in the midst of a garden which even now, in the bareness of the autumn, looked pleasant with its tall trees, its neat walks, its sun-dial and dove-cote. A black servant in a livery coat admitted the young man; and from the passage he heard the voices of his uncle and Dr. King. He was shown into a large room on the second floor. This was crowded with rare furniture; its hangings were rich and delightful to the eye; upon stands and shelves were examples of bronze and gold and pottery such as Anthony had never seen before. Charles greeted him. "James," said the merchant to Dr. King, "here he is, come to visit me like a good fellow, forgetting all about how I've neglected him." Dr. King shook Anthony's hand, smiling. "At any rate," said he, "he shows the right disposition. And we should be glad enough to have him back." As Anthony settled into a chair, Charles limped up and down the room in mounting excitement. "I've heard of your damned goings-on," stated he, eagerly. "To-day, when you'd told me you'd been in the city almost a week, I was on the verge of commiserating you on your loneliness; and here I learn that you've left a trail of very active devilment strung out behind you." He paused in front of Anthony and clutched his shoulder exultantly. "So you pummeled that infernal sneering fire-eater, Tarrant, did you? What for?" "He intruded upon me, and refused to give an account of himself," said Anthony. "And, I suppose, I was in no humor to listen to him." Once more Charles limped up and down; his eyes blazed with excitement. "A porter saw you pitch him out!" cried Charles. "He saw you pitch him into the passage, and has told it all over town." Here Charles filled the room with his laughter. "He saw you throw his hat after him," he gasped between bursts; "and he had to help the damned villain to his feet, and down the stairs." For a moment he choked back his mirth. "Out into the passage!" he said. "And with his hat after him! Oh, what a picture!" And again he laughed consumedly. "You know him, then?" said Anthony. His uncle composed himself, took a seat in a big chair, and nursed his lame foot. "I have known him these five years," said he. "And in that time I've found him to be a knave and a cheat. It's true he once served aboard a United States frigate, and with some distinction; but a thing like that doesn't light a man through a whole lifetime of roguery. His open doings are of that rakehell kind countenanced by many honest people as the outcomes of a large nature and high spirit. But his connections with the money-lenders and slimy shipping-agents of the Algerian coast are kept out of view and are known to only a few, and even those few don't know enough to speak publicly against him. But," and he looked at Anthony with narrowed eyes, "what of this answer you made to his challenge?"