"Do you think I am going to be silenced, intimidated, by this
sort of thing? No, sir! No, Solomon, the stopper isn't made
that will fit my mouth."
A few moments later he burst in on Mr. Saul.
"Glance at that, my friend!" he cried, as he tossed the paper on
the clerk's desk. "Eh, what?--no joke about that, Mr. Saul. I
found it under my door this morning." Mr. Saul glanced at the
penciled lines and drew in his breath sharply. "What do you make
of it, sir?" demanded the judge anxiously.
"Well, of course, you'll do as you please, but I'd keep still."
"You mean you regard this as an authentic expression, sir, and
not as the joke of some irresponsible humorist?"
"It's authentic enough," said Mr. Saul impatiently.
The judge gave a sigh of relief; he could have hugged the little
clerk who had put to rest certain miserable doubts that had
assailed him.
"Sir, I wish it known that I hold the writer and his threats in
contempt; if I have given offense it is to an element I shall
never seek to conciliate." Mr. Saul was clearly divided between
his admiration for the judge's courage and fear for his safety.
"One thing is proven, sir," the judge went on; "the man who
murdered that poor boy is in our midst; that point can no longer
be disputed. Now, where are their fine-spun theories as to how
he crossed to the Arkansas coast? What does their mass of
speculation and conjecture amount to in the face of this?" He
breathed deep.
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