" A deadly earnestness lifted the
judge's words above mere rudeness. Fentress, cold and distant,
made no reply. "For the past twenty years I have been looking
for a man by the name of Gatewood--David Gatewood." Disciplined
as he was, the colonel started violently. "Ever heard of him,
Fentress?" demanded the judge with a savage scowl.
"What's all this to me?" The words came with a gasp from
Fentress' twitching lips. The judge looked at him moody and
frowning.
"I have reason to think this man Gatewood came to west
Tennessee," he said.
"If so, I have never heard of him."
"Perhaps not under that name--at any rate you are going to hear
of him now. This man Gatewood, who between ourselves was a
damned scoundrel"--the colonel winced--"this man Gatewood had a
friend who threw money and business in his way--a planter he was,
same as Gatewood. A sort of partnership existed between the
pair. It proved an expensive enterprise for Gatewood's friend,
since he came to trust the damned scoundrel more and more as time
passed--even large sums of his money were in Gatewood's hands--"
the judge paused. Fentress' countenance was like stone, as
expressionless and as rigid.
By the door stood Mahaffy with Yancy and Cavendish; they
understood that what was obscure and meaningless to them held a
tragic significance to these two men. The judge's heavy face,
ordinarily battered and debauched, but infinitely good-natured,
bore now the markings of deep passion, and the voice that rumbled
forth from his capacious chest came to their ears like distant
thunder.
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