The Prodigal Judge Part 36

"Ever seen the colonel before?" asked Mr. Saul curiously.

"Who is he?"

"Well, sir, he's one of our leading planters, and a mighty fine lawyer."

"Has he always lived here?"

"No, he came into the county about ten years ago, and bought a place called The Oaks, over toward the river."

"Has he--has he a family?" The judge appeared to be having difficulty with his speech.

"Not that anybody knows of. Some say he's a widower, others again say he's an old bachelor; but he don't say nothing, for the colonel is as close as wax about his own affairs. So it's pure conjecture, sir." There was a brief silence. "The county has its conundrums, and the colonel's one of them," resumed Mr. Saul.

"Yes?" said the judge.

"The colonel's got his friends, to be sure, but he don't mix much with the real quality."

"Why not?" asked the judge.

"He's apparently as high-toned a gentleman as you'd meet with anywhere; polished, sir, so smooth your fingers would slip if you tried to take hold of him, but it's been commented on that when a horsethief or counterfeiter gets into trouble the colonel's always first choice for counsel."

"Get's 'em off, does he?" The judge spoke somewhat grimly.

"Mighty nigh always. But then he has most astonis.h.i.+ng luck in the matter of witnesses. That's been commented on too." The judge nodded comprehendingly. "I reckon you'd call Tom Ware, out at Belle Plain, one of Fentress' closest friends. He's another of your conundrums. I wouldn't advise you to be too curious about the colonel."

"Why not?" The judge was frowning now.

"It will make you unpopular with a certain cla.s.s. Those of us who've been here long enough have learned that there are some of these conundrums we'd best not ask an answer for."

The judge pondered this.

"Do you mean to tell me, sir, that freedom of speech is not allowed?" he demanded, with some show of heat.

"Perfect freedom, if you pick and choose your topic," responded Mr.

Saul.

"Humph!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the judge.

"Now you might talk to me with all the freedom you like, but I'd recommend you were cautious with strangers. There have been those who've talked freely that have been advised to keep still or harm would come of it."

"And did harm come of it?" asked the judge.

"They always kept still."

"What do you mean by talking freely?"

"Like asking how so and so got the money to buy his last batch of n.i.g.g.e.rs," explained Mr. Saul rather vaguely.

"And Colonel Fentress is one of those about whose affairs it is best not to show too much curiosity?"

"He is, decidedly. His friends appear to set a heap by him. Another of his particular intimates is a gentleman by the name of Murrell."

The judge nodded.

"I've met him," he said briefly. "Does he belong hereabouts?"

"No, hardly; he seems to hold a sort of roving commission. His home is, I believe, near Denmark, in Madison County."

"What's his antecedents?"

"He's as common a white man as ever came out of the hills, but he appears to stand well with Colonel Fentress."

"Colonel Fentress!" The judge spat in sheer disgust.

"You don't appear to fancy the colonel--" said Mr. Saul.

"I don't fancy wearing a gag--and d.a.m.ned if I do!" cried the judge.

"Oh, it ain't that exactly; it's just minding your own business. I reckon you'll find there's lot's to be said in favor of goin' ca'mly on attending strictly to your own affairs, sir," concluded Mr. Saul.

Acting on a sudden impulse, the judge turned to the door. The business and the hope that had brought him there were forgotten. He muttered something about returning later, and hastily quitted the office.

"Well, I reckon he's a conundrum too!" reflected Mr. Saul, as the door swung shut.

In the hall the judge's steps dragged and his head was bowed. He was busy with his memories, memories that spanned the desolate waste of years in which he had walked from shame to shame, each blacker than the last. Then pa.s.sion shook him.

"d.a.m.n him--may G.o.d-for ever d.a.m.n him!" he cried under his breath, in a fierce whisper. A burning mist before his eyes, he shuffled down the hall, down the steps, and into the shaded, trampled s.p.a.ce that was known as the court-house yard. Here he paused irresolutely. Across the way was the gun-maker's shop, the weather-beaten sign came within range of his vision, and the dingy white letters on their black ground spelled themselves out. The words seemed to carry some message, for the judge, with his eyes fixed on the sign as on some beacon of hope, plunged across the dusty road and entered the shop.

At supper that night it was plain to both Mr. Mahaffy and Hannibal that the judge was in a state of mind best described as beatific. The tenderest consideration, the gentlest courtesy flowed from him as from an unfailing spring; not that he was ever, even in his darkest hours, socially remiss, but there was now a special magnificence to his manner that bred suspicion in Mahaffy's soul. When he noted that the judge's shoes were extremely dusty, this suspicion shaped itself definitely. He was convinced that on the strength of his prospective fee the judge had gone to Belle Plain, for what purpose Mr. Mahaffy knew only too well.

"It took you some time to get up that abstract, didn't it, Price?" he presently said, with artful indirection.

"I shall go on with that in the morning, Solomon; my interest was dissipated this evening," rejoined the judge.

"Looks as though you had devoted a good part of your time to pedestrianism," suggested Mahaffy.

"Quite right, so I did, Solomon."

"Were you at Belle Plain?" demanded Mahaffy harshly and with a black scowl. The judge had agreed to keep away from Belle Plain.

"No, Solomon, you forget our pact."

"Well, I am glad you remembered it."

They finished supper, the dishes were cleared away and the candles lighted, when the judge produced a mysterious leather-covered case. This he placed upon the table and opened, and Mahaffy and Hannibal, who had drawn near, saw with much astonishment that it held a handsome pair of dueling pistols, together with all their necessary paraphernalia.

"Where did you get 'em, Judge?--Oh, ain't they beautiful!" cried Hannibal, circling about the table in his excitement.