involuntary fear, and many present unconsciously grasped the handles of
their side-arms.

"Who are you, that thus presumes to intrude among gentlemen, without
invitation?" demanded Colonel Morton, ferociously essaying to cow down
the stranger with his eye.

The latter returned his stare with compound interest, and laid his long,
bony finger on his lip, as a sign--but of what, the spectators could
not imagine.

"Who are you? Speak! or I will cut an answer out of your heart!" shouted
Morton, almost distracted with rage, by the cool, sneering gaze of the
other, who now removed his finger from his lip, and laid it on the hilt
of his monstrous knife.

The fiery colonel then drew his dagger, and was in the act of advancing
upon the stranger, when several caught him and held him back,
remonstrating. "Let him alone, Morton, for God's sake. Do you not
perceive that he is crazy?"

At the moment, Judge Webb, a man of shrewd intellect and courteous
manners, stepped forward, and addressed the intruder in a most
respectful manner:

"My good friend, I presume you have made a mistake in the house. This is
a private meeting, where none but members are admitted."

The stranger did not appear to comprehend the words; but he could not
fail to understand the mild and deprecatory manner. His rigid features