"Don't be a fool. Put that pistol away," he warned. "The public's crazy-mad about the Cora verdict. They won't stand for shooting King." "Listen," said McGowan, craftily, "go up there and protest like a gentleman. Try to make the ---- insult you in the presence of a witness.... Afterward--we'll see." CHAPTER XLI THE FATEFUL ENCOUNTER James King of William sat with his back toward the door when Casey, still a-quiver with rage but endeavoring to control himself, entered the Bulletin office. He stumbled over the doorsill. King turned. When he saw who the intruder was, he laid down a handful of proofs and rose. Casey glared at him. "What do you mean," cried the politician, trying to speak calmly, "by publishing that article about me in the Bulletin?" King transfixed him with accusing eyes. "About the ballot-box stuffing ... or your Sing Sing record, Casey?" he inquired. "You--you know well enough," blustered Casey. "It's an outrage to rake up a man's past.... A fellow's sensitive about such things." He shook a fist at King. "If necessary, I'll defend myself." "Very well," responded King. "That's your prerogative. You've a paper of your own.... And now get out of here," he added curtly. "Never show your face inside this door again." Later at the Bank Exchange McGowan found the supervisor cursing as he raised a glass of whiskey with a trembling hand. "Well, did you make him insult you?" "Damn him," was all Casey could answer. "Damn him. Damn him." He tossed the raw liquor down his throat and poured another drink. McGowan smiled. "You can do that till Doomsday and it won't hurt him." McGowan's voice rang with contempt. "Is that all you can do? Are you afraid--" Casey interrupted fiercely. "I'm NOT afraid. You know it. I'll get even." "How?" "Never mind. You'll see," the politician muttered darkly. "You're a drunken fool," remarked McGowan. "You've no chance with King. He's twice as big as you. He carries a derringer. And he shoots straight. Listen to me." He dragged the other to a corner of the room; they sat there for at least an hour arguing, drinking. * * * * * James King of William watched Casey's exit from the Bulletin with a smile. He recalled his wife's warning that morning as he left his home, "Look out for Casey, James." "Pooh, Charlotte," he had reassured her. "I've far worse enemies than that prison rat." She had merely smiled, smoothed a wrinkle from his coat and kissed him, a worried look in her eyes. Then the children had gathered round him. Little Annie wanted a toy piano, Joe some crayons for his work at school. Remembering this, King seized a desk pad, wrote on it some words of memoranda. Then he straightway forgot Casey in the detail of work. When the Bulletin was off the press, the pad, with its written inscription, caught his eye and he shoved it into a side pocket. "Well, I'm going home," he said to Nesbitt. "Must buy a few things for the children."