"Sir," replied the visitor.
"Mr. Holcombe," began Allen, slowly, and with impressive gravity, "I
do not want any words with you about this, or with any one else. I am
here owing to a combination of circumstances which have led me through
hopeless, endless trouble. What I have gone through with nobody knows.
That is something no one but I can ever understand. But that is now at
an end. I have taken refuge in flight and safety, where another might
have remained and compromised and suffered; but I am a weaker brother,
and--as for punishment, my own conscience, which has punished me so
terribly in the past, will continue to do so in the future. I am
greatly to be pitied, Mr. Holcombe, greatly to be pitied. And no one
knows that better than yourself. You know the value of the position I
held in New York City, and how well I was suited to it, and it to me.
And now I am robbed of it all. I am an exile in this wilderness.
Surely, Mr. Holcombe, this is not the place nor the time when you
should insult me by recalling the--"
"You contemptible hypocrite," said Holcombe, slowly. "What an ass you
must think I am! Now, listen to me."
"No, _you_ listen to me," thundered the other. He stepped
menacingly forward, his chest heaving under his open shirt, and his
fingers opening and closing at his side. "Leave the room, I tell you,"
he cried, "or I shall call the servants and make you!" He paused with
a short, mocking laugh. "Who do you think I am?" he asked; "a child
that you can insult and gibe at? I'm not a prisoner in the box for you
to browbeat and bully, Mr.
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