" His
manner was cool and decided. He possessed in an eminent degree
the egotism that makes possible great crimes and great criminals,
and his degenerate brain dealt with this colossal horror as
simply as if it had been a petty theft.
"There's no use in trying to talk you out of this, John, but I
just want to ask you one thing: you do all you say you are going
to do, and then where in hell's name will you be safe?"
"I'll take my chances. What have I been taking all my life but
the biggest sort of chances?--and for little enough!"
Ware, feeling the entire uselessness of argument, uttered a
string of imprecations, and then fell silent. His acquaintance
with Murrell was of long standing. It dated back to the time
when he was growing into the management of Belle Plain. A chance
meeting with the outlaw in Memphis had developed into the closest
intimacy, and the plantation had become one of the regular
stations for the band of horse-thieves of which Murrell had
spoken. But time had wrought its changes. Tom was now in full
control of Belle Plain and its resources, and he had little heart
for such risks as he had once taken.
"Well, how about the girl, Tom?" asked Murrell at length, in a
low even tone.
"The girl? Oh, Betty, you mean?" said Ware, and shifted uneasily
in his seat. "Haven't you got enough on your hands without
worrying about her? She don't like you, haven't I told you that?
Think of some one else for a spell, and you'll find it answers,"
he urged.
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