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 damned 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 passion shook him.
"Damn him--may God-for ever damn him 1" 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 space that was known as
the court-house yard.
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