It does not matter how bad a man Casey had been, or how much benefit it might be to the public to have him out of the way, we cannot accord to any one citizen the right to kill him, or even beat him, without justifiable provocation. The fact that Casey has been an inmate of Sing Sing prison in New York is no offence against the laws of this State; nor is the fact of his having stuffed himself through the ballot box, as elected to the Board of Supervisors from a district where it is said he was not even a candidate, any justification for Mr. Bagby to shoot Casey, however richly the latter may deserve to have his neck stretched for such fraud on the public. Casey read this in the full knowledge that thousands of his fellow-citizens would also read it. His thin face turned white with anger. He crumpled the paper into a ball and hurled it violently into the gutter, settled his hat more firmly on his head, and proceeded at once to the _Bulletin_ office with the full intention of shooting King on sight. Probably he would have done so, save for the accidental circumstance that King happened to be busy at a table, his back squarely to the door. Casey could not shoot a man in the back without a word. He was breathless and stuttering with excitement. King was alone, but an open door into an adjoining office permitted two witnesses to see and hear. "What do you mean by that article?" cried Casey in a strangled voice. King turned slowly, and examined his visitor for a moment. "What article?" he inquired at last. "That which says I was formerly an inmate of Sing Sing!" King gazed at him with a depth of detached, patient sadness in his dark eyes. "Is it not true?" he asked finally. "That is not the question," retorted Casey, trying again to work himself up to the rage in which he had entered. "I do not wish my past acts rated up: on that point I am sensitive." A faint smile came and went on King's lips. "Are you done?" he asked still quietly; then, receiving no reply, he turned in his chair and leaned forward with a sudden intensity. His next words hit with the impact of bullets: "There's the door! Go! Never show your face here again!" he commanded. Casey found himself moving toward the open door. He did not want to do this, he wanted to shoot King, or at least to provoke a quarrel, but he was for the moment overcome by a stronger personality. At the door he gathered himself together a little. "I'll say in my paper what I please!" he asserted, with a show of bravado. King was leaning back, watching him steadily. "You have a perfect right to do so," he rejoined. "I shall never notice your paper." Casey struck himself on the breast. "And if necessary I shall defend myself!" he cried. King's passivity broke. He bounded from his seat bristling with anger. "Go!" he commanded sharply, and Casey went. LI