"I trust you will not hesitate to call upon me if I can be of any
use to you, ma'am--a message will bring me here without a
moment's delay." He was rather disappointed that no allusion had
been made to his recent activities. He reasoned correctly that
Betty was as yet in ignorance of the somewhat dangerous eminence
he had achieved as the champion of law and order. However, he
reflected with satisfaction that Hannibal, in remaining, would
admirably serve his ends.
Betty insisted that he should be driven home, and after faintly
protesting, the judge gracefully yielded the point, and a few
moments later rolled away from Belle Plain behind a pair of
sleek-coated bays, with a negro in livery on the box. He was
conscious of a great sense of exaltation. He felt that he should
paralyze Mahaffy. He even temporarily forgot the blow his hopes
had sustained when Betty spoke of returning to North Carolina.
This was life--broad acres and niggers--principally to trot after
you toting liquor--and such liquor!--he lolled back luxuriantly
with half-closed eyes.
"Twenty years in the wood if an hour!" he muttered. "I'd like to
have just such a taste in my mouth when I come to die--and
probably she has barrels of it!" he sighed deeply, and searched
his soul for words with which adequately to describe that whisky
to Mahaffy.
But why not do more than paralyze Solomon--that would be pleasant
but not especially profitable. The judge came back quickly to
the vexed problem of his future.
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