much treacherous and malignant sympathy, under the guise of pretended
friendship--sympathy! why do I say sympathy? Persecution--vengeance.
Yes, sir, till I have become mad--or--or nearly so. No," he added, "I
am not mad--I never was mad--but I understand your object--avaunt,
sir--begone--or I shall throw you out of the window."

"Be calm, Mr. Fenton--be calm," replied the stranger, "and collect
yourself. I am, indeed, sincerely your friend."

"Who told you, sir, that I was mad?"

"I never said so, Mr. Fenton."

"It matters not, sir--you are a traitor--and as such I denounce you.
This room is mine, sir, and I shall forthwith expel you from it--" and,
as he spoke, he started up, and sprung at the stranger, who, on
seeing him rise for the purpose, instantly rang the bell. The waiter
immediately entered, and found the latter holding poor Fenton by the
two wrists, and with such a tremendous grasp as made him feel like an
infant, in point of strength, in his hands.

"This is unmeaning violence, sir," exclaimed the latter, calmly but
firmly, "unless you explain yourself, and give a reason for it. If you
are moved by any peculiar cause of horror, or apprehension, or danger,
why not enable me to understand it, in order that you may feel assured
of my anxious disposition to assist you?"

"Gintlemen," exclaimed Paudeen, "what in the name of Pether White and
Billy Neelins is the reason of this? But I needn't ax--it's one of Mr.
Fenton's tantrams--an' the occasion of it was, lying snug and warm