What's come of Turberville's wife and
child? What's come of Turberville's money? Damn your soul! I
want my grandson! I'll pull you down and leave you stripped and
bare! I'll tell the world the false friend you've been--the
thief you are! I'll strip you and turn you out of these doors as
naked as when you entered the world!" The judge seemed to tower
above Fentress, the man had shot up out of his deep debasement.
"Choose! Choose!" he thundered, his shaggy brows bent in a
menacing frown.
"I know nothing about the boy," said Fentress slowly.
"By God, you lie!" stormed the judge.
"I know nothing about the boy," and Fentress took a step toward
the door.
"Stay where you are!" commanded the judge. "If you attempt to
leave this room to call your niggers I'll kill you on its
threshold!"
But Yancy and Cavendish had stepped to the door with an intention
that was evident, and Fentress' thin face cast itself in haggard
lines. He was feeling the judge's terrible capacity, his
unexpected ability to deal with a supreme situation. Even
Mahaffy gazed at his friend in wonder. He had only seen him
spend himself on trifles, with no further object than the next
meal or the next drink; he had believed that as he knew him so he
had always been, lax and loose of tongue and deed, a noisy tavern
hero, but now he saw that he was filling what must have been the
measure of his manhood.
"I tell you I had no hand in carrying off the boy," said Fentress
with a sardonic smile.
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