“There’s a nigger for you!” said Hicks.  “She took the rascal out of the field, dressed him like he was a gentleman and pampered him up, and now first chance he gets he runs off!”

“Ah!” said the judge softly.  “Then you knew this?”

“Of course I knew—­wa’n’t it my business to know?  I reckon he was off skylarking, and when he’d seen the mess he’d made, the trifling fool took to the woods.  Well, he catches it when I lay hands on him!”

“Do you know when and under what circumstances the team was stabled, Mr. Hicks?” inquired the judge.

“No, I don’t, but I reckon it must have been along after dark,” said Hicks unwillingly.  “I seen to the feeding just after sundown like I always do, then I went to supper,” Hicks vouchsafed to explain.

“And no one saw or heard the team drive in?”

“Not as I know of,” said Hicks.

“Mas’r Ca’ington’s done gone off to get a pack of dawgs—­he ’lows hit’s might’ important to find what’s come of George,” said Steve.

Hicks started violently at this piece of news.

“I reckon he’ll have to travel a right smart distance to find a pack of dogs,” he muttered.  “I don’t know of none this side of Colonel Bates’ down below Girard.”

The judge was lost in thought.  He permitted an interval of silence to elapse in which Hicks’ glance slid round in a furtive circle.

“When did Mr. Ware set out for Memphis?” asked the judge at length.

“Early yesterday.  He goes there pretty often on business.”

“You talked with Mr. Ware before he left?” Hicks nodded.  “Did he speak of Miss Malroy?” Hicks shook his head.  “Did you see her during the afternoon?”

“No—­maybe you think these niggers ain’t enough to keep a man stirring?” said Hicks uneasily and with a scowl.  The judge noticed both the uneasiness and the scowl.

“I should imagine they would absorb every moment of your time, Mr. Hicks,” he agreed affably.

“A man’s got to be a hog for work to hold a job like mine,” said Hicks sourly.

“But it came to your notice that Miss Malroy has been in a disturbed mental state ever since Mr. Norton’s murder?  I am interested in this point, Mr. Hicks, because your experience is so entirely at variance with my own.  It was my privilege to see and speak with her yesterday afternoon; I was profoundly impressed by her naturalness and composure.”  The judge smiled, then he leaned forward across the desk.  “What were you doing up here early this morning—­hasn’t a hog for work like you got any business of his own at that hour?” The judge’s tone was suddenly offensive.

“Look here, what right have you got to try and pump me?” cried Hicks.

For no discernible reason Mr. Cavendish spat on his palms.

“Mr. Hicks,” said the judge, urbane and gracious, “I believe in frankness.”

“Sure,” agreed Hicks, mollified by the judge’s altered tone.