"C-can't say that I do," stammered Boggs.
"That need make no difference," said the stranger, mysteriously. "I know you."
The stranger then commenced feeling in his coat pockets with his hands.
Boggs sprang to his feet, observing this movement, fully satisfied that the stranger was seeking his revolver or bowie-knife.
"Sir," said Boggs, hurriedly, "if I have ever unconsciously done you an injury, I am ready to apologize. I can see no good reason why this apartment should be made the scene of a sanguinary conflict."
"Sanguinary conflict—apology"—said the other, somewhat astonished. "My dear sir, the apology is due to you."
Boggs's equanimity was once more restored. "You don't know how happy I am to hear you say so," said he. "Could you make it convenient to apologize at once, to fully relieve my mind of the frightful anticipations?"
"With the greatest pleasure in the world, Mr. Boggs," said the stranger. "I apologize."
"And I cheerfully forgive you," said Boggs.
"Then you recollect the circumstance, do you?" asked the stranger.