“No—­not at least by any violence.  No doubt the shock of his loss hastened his death.  Surely you must know that he risked all he possessed on a game of cards and lost?”

“Thockmorton knew something about it, and there were other rumors floating about the Landing, but I have heard no details.”

“You did not see the two men, then?”

“No, I was not at home, and they went on down the river the next day on a keel-boat.  You saw the play?”

“I saw the last part of the game and was convinced, as all the others present were, that the Judge was deliberately ruined for a purpose.  I believe it was all planned beforehand, but of this we have no tangible proof.”

“His opponent was Joe Kirby?”

“And a fellow named Carver, a mere hanger-on.”

Haines wet his lips, his eyes narrowing to mere slits, his professional nature coming to the front.

“First, let me ask you why you believe Beaucaire was cheated?” he piped.  “I know Joe Kirby, and consider him quite capable of such a trick, but we shall need more than suspicion to circumvent his scheme.”

“I have every reason, Haines, to feel convinced that both Kirby and Carver trailed Beaucaire up the river with the intention of plucking him.  Kirby practically confessed this to me, boastingly, afterwards.  All the way down he was bantering the Judge to play.  That last night he so manipulated the cards—­or rather Carver did, for it was his deal—­as to deceive Beaucaire into firmly believing that he held an absolutely unbeatable hand—­he was dealt four aces and a king.”

The lawyer leaned forward, breathing heavily.

“Four aces!  Only one hand is better than that, and it would be impossible to get such a hand out of one pack.”

“That is exactly true, Haines.  I am no card player, but I do know that much about the game.  Yet Kirby took the pot with a straight flush.  Now, either he, or Carver, slipped an extra ace into the pack, or else Beaucaire did.  In my opinion the Judge had no chance to work such a trick.  And that’s the case, as it stands.”

Haines jumped to his feet and began pacing the dirt floor excitedly, his hands clasped behind his back.

“By God, man!” he cried, pausing suddenly.  “Even if he did have a chance, the Judge never did it—­never.  He was a good sport, and always played a straight game.  You say he bet everything he had?”

“To the last dollar—­Kirby egged him on.  Besides the money, a deed to his land, and a bill of sale for his negroes were on the table.”

“The field hands, you mean?”

“Yes, and the house servants.  Kirby insisted that he write these words, ‘This includes every chattel slave legally belonging to me,’ and made Beaucaire sign it in that form.”

Haines’ face was white, his eyes staring at me incredulously.

“God help us, man!  Do you know what that means?” he gasped.