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Kester, Vaughan, 1869-1911

"The Prodigal Judge"


"Who's that? Hicks?" asked Ware.
"It isn't Hicks--never mind who it is, Tom," answered Murrell
quietly.
"I thought you'd sent him out of the county?" muttered Ware, his
face livid.
"Look here, Tom, I don't ask your help, but I won't stand your
interference. I'm going to have the girl."
"John, you'll ruin yourself with your damned crazy infatuation!"
It was Fentress, no longer able to control himself, who spoke.
"No, I won't, Colonel, but I'm not going to discuss that. All I
want is for Tom to go to Memphis and stay there for a couple of
days. When he comes back Belle Plain and its niggers will be as
good as his. I am going to take the girl away from there
to-night. I don't ask your help and you needn't ask what comes
of her afterward. That will be my affair." Murrell's burning
eyes shifted from one to the other.
"A beautiful and accomplished young lady--a great heiress--is to
disappear and no solution of the mystery demanded by the public
at large!" said Fentress with an acid smile. Murrell laughed
contemptuously.
"What's all this fuss over Norton's death amounted to?" he said.
"Are you sure you have come to the end of that, John?" inquired
Fentress, still smiling.
"I don't propose to debate this further," rejoined Murrell
haughtily. Instantly the colonel's jaw became rigid. The
masterful airs of this cutthroat out of the hills irked him
beyond measure. Murrell turned to Ware.
"How soon can you get away from here, Tom?" he asked abruptly.


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