“Let you go—­ask me anything but that, Betty!  Have you no reward for patience such as mine?  A whole summer has passed since I saw you first—­”

There was the noisy shuffling of feet on the stairs, and releasing Betty, Murrell swung about on his heel and faced the door.  It was pushed open an inch at a time by a not too confident hand and Mr. Slosson thus guardedly presented himself to the eye of his chief, whom he beckoned from the room.

“Well?” said Murrell, when they stood together on the landing.

“Just come across to the keel boat!” and Slosson led the way down the stairs and from the house.

“Damn you, Joe; you might have waited!” observed the outlaw.  Slosson gave him a hardened grin.  They crossed the clearing and boarded the keel boat which rested against the bank.  As they did so, the cabin in the stern gave up a shattered presence in the shape of Tom Ware.  Murrell started violently.  “I thought you were hanging out in Memphis, Tom?” he said, and his brow darkened as, sinister and forbidding, he stepped closer to the planter.  Ware did not answer at once, but looked at Murrell out of heavy bloodshot eyes, his face pinched and ghastly.  At last he said, speaking with visible effort,

“I stayed in Memphis until five o’clock this morning.”

“Damn your early hours!” roared Murrell.  “What are you doing here?  I suppose you’ve been showing that dead face of yours about the neighborhood—­why didn’t you stay at Belle Plain since you couldn’t keep away?”

“I haven’t been near Belle Plain, I came here instead.  How am I going to meet people and answer questions?” His teeth were chattering.  “Is it known she’s missing?” he added.

“Hicks raised the alarm the first thing this morning, according to the instructions I’d given him.”

“Yes?” gasped Ware.  He was dripping from every pore and the sickly color came and went on his unshaven cheeks.  Murrell dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“You haven’t been at Belle Plain, you say, but has any one seen you on the road this morning?”

“No one, John,” cried Ware, panting between each word.  There was a moment’s pause and Ware spoke again.  “What are they doing at Belle Plain?” he demanded in a whisper.  Murrell’s lips curled.

“I understand there is talk of suicide,” he said.

“Good!” cried Ware.

“They are dragging the bayou down below the house.  It looks as though you were going to reap the rewards of the excellent management you have given her estate.  They have been trying to find you in Memphis, so the sooner you show yourself the better,” he concluded significantly.

“You are sure you have her safe, John, no chance of discovery?  For God’s sake, get her away from here as soon as you can, it’s an awful risk you run!”

“She’ll be sent down river to-night,” said Murrell.

“Captain,” began Slosson who up to this had taken no part in the conversation.  “When are you going to cross to t’other side of the bayou?”