“Why do you go building on that idea?  Why should any one harm him—­what earthly purpose—­”

“I tell you, Solomon, we are the pivotal point in a vast circle of crime.  This is a blow at me—­this is revenge, sir, neither more nor less!  They have struck at me through the boy, it is as plain as day.”

“What did the overseer say?”

“Just that they found Miss Malroy gone from Belle Plain this morning, and the boy with her.”

“This is like you, Price!  How do you know they haven’t spent the night at some neighbor’s?”

“The nearest neighbor is five or six miles distant.  Miss Malroy and Hannibal were seen along about dusk in the grounds at Belle Plain, do you mean to tell me you consider it likely that they set out on foot at that hour, and without a word to any one, to make a visit?” inquired the judge; but Mahaffy did not contend for this point.

“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.”

“Yes, Sah.”  And Steve withdrew.

The judge drew an easy-chair up to the flat-topped desk that stood in the center of the room, and seated himself.

“Are you going to make this the excuse for another drunk, Price?  If so, I feel the greatest contempt for you,” said Mahaffy sternly.