afternoon a party of us - Jo. McKibben, John Monroe, Clerk of Judge
Hoffman's Court, E. V. Joice, Pen. Johnston, Josh Haven and myself were
in the Court Exchange, corner of Battery and Washington streets.
Richardson came in while we were there, and was in drinking humor. He
became sullen and, as we all knew his nature, it was quietly agreed
among ourselves that we would leave and try to get him away. He was
devoted to his wife, whom he married in San Francisco. McKibben and
myself accompanied him on his way home, as far as the old Oriental
Hotel, within a few blocks of his residence. There he insisted on a
"last drink," and we left him - he to go straight home. It turned out
that he did not. He brooded over the "insult" of Carter, as he still
called him, and made his way to the Blue Wing to find him, Unfortunately
he found Cora there. He called him out, and, as one man wilt lead
another by his side, walked with him around the corner into Clay street,
halting just in front of the store of a French firm - I do not remember
the name - and so managed as to put Cora on the iron grating, of the
sidewalk inside, with his back to the brick wall of the store. Cora had
not the slightest idea that Richardson had taken offence at his remark
on Thursday night - for it was in no light offensive or insulting but
simply a bit of ordinary pleasantry, and therefore, he was not aware of
Richardson's object in asking him to come out from the saloon. But many
of Richardson's intimate friends, who felt his death keenly, and were at
that time disposed to the extreme penalty of the law upon the man who
shot him, after due reflection and deliberation came to the conclusion,
that under the circumstances, standing as he was placed before
Richardson, who stood with his hands in his pockets, and a deringer in
each pocket, pressing his demand on Cora, the latter had one of two
things to do: either to kill Richardson or allow Richardson to kill him.

There were not many on Clay street, near the fatal scene, at that hour,