Just then Hiram Still, accompanied by Leech, rode up into the yard. He had evidently kept himself informed as to Mrs. Gray’s movements. He rode across the grass and gave orders to the negroes to clear away. Mrs. Gray took not the least notice of him, but, outraged by his insolence, Rupert suddenly sprang forward and denounced him passionately. His mother checked him: “Rupert, my son.” But the boy was wild with anger. “We are coming back some day,” he cried to Still. “You have robbed us; but wait till my brother returns.” Both Still and Leech laughed, and Still ostentatiously ordered the negroes off. Still moved in that afternoon. Before Still had been installed in his new mansion twenty-four hours he repented of his indiscretion, if not of his insolence. He was absent a part of the evening, and on his return he heard that Captain Allen had been to see him. The face of the servant who gave the message told more than the words he delivered. “What did he want?” Still asked, sharply. “He say he want to see you, and he want to see you pussonally.” The negro looked significant. “Well, he knows where to find me.” “Yes, he say he _gwine_ fine you—dat’s huccome he come, an’ he gwine _keep on_ till he do fine you.” Still’s heart sank. “I don’t know what he wants with me,” he growled, as he turned away and went into the house. The great hall filled with pictures had never looked so big or so dark. The eyes fastened on him from the walls seemed to search him. Those of the “Indian-Killer” pierced him wherever he went. “Curse them; they are all alike,” he growled. “I wish I had let them have the d——d rubbish. I would, but for having to take that one down.” Poor Virgy, who had been given the room that had formerly been Jacquelin’s, came toward him. She was scared and lonely in her new surroundings, and had been crying. This increased her father’s ill-humor. He inquired if she had seen Captain Allen. She had, but he had only bowed to her; all he had said was to the servant. “Did he seem excited?” Still asked. “No, he only looked quiet. He looked like one of those pictures up there.” It was an unlucky illustration. Her father broke out on her so severely that she ran to her own room weeping. It was only of late that he had begun to be so harsh. Still, left alone, sat down and without delay wrote a letter to Captain Allen, expressing regret that he had been away when he called. He also wrote a letter to Dr. Cary, which he sent out that night, apologizing to Mrs. Gray and calling heaven to witness that he had not meant to offend her, and did not even know she was on the place when he rode up. He did not wait for replies. The next morning before daylight he left for the city. “I would not mind one of them,” he complained to his counsel, Leech. “I’m as good a man as any one of ’em; but you don’t know ’em. They stick together like Indians, and if one of ’em got hurt, the whole tribe would come down on me like hornets.”