"What are you going to do first, Price?"
"Have a look over the grounds, and talk with the slaves."
"Where's the brother--wasn't he at Belle Plain last night?"
"It seems he went to Memphis yesterday."
They plodded forward in silence; now and again they were passed
by some man on horseback whose destination was the same as their
own, and then at last they caught sight of Belle Plain in its
grove of trees.
All work on the plantation had stopped, and the hundreds of
slaves--men, women and children--were gathered about the house.
Among these moved the members of the dominant race. The judge
would have attached himself to the first group, but he heard a
whispered question, and the answer,
"Miss Malroy's lawyer."
Clearly it was not for him to mix with these outsiders, these
curiosity seekers. He crossed the lawn to the house, and mounted
the steps. In the doorway was big Steve, while groups of men
stood about in the hall, the hum of busy purposeless talk
pervading the place. The judge frowned. This was all wrong.
"Has Mr. Ware returned from Memphis?" he asked of Steve.
"No, Sah;; not yet."
"Then show me into the library," said the judge with bland
authority, surrendering his hat to the butler. "Come along,
Mahaffy!" he added. They entered the library, and the judge
motioned Steve to close the door. "Now, boy, you'll kindly ask
those people to withdraw--you may say it is Judge Price's orders.
Allow no one to enter the house unless they have business with
me, or as I send for them--you understand? After you have
cleared the house, you may bring me a decanter of corn whisky
--stop a bit--you may ask the sheriff to step here.
Pages:
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345