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.

“I look to you to return him.  Stir yourself, Gatewood, or by God, I’ll hold so fierce a reckoning with you—­”

The sentence remained unfinished, for Fentress felt his overwrought nerves snap, and giving way to a sudden blind fury struck at the judge.

“We are too old for rough and tumble,” said the judge, who had displayed astonishing agility in avoiding the blow.  “Furthermore we were once gentlemen.  At present I am what I am, while you are a hound and a blackguard!  We’ll settle this as becomes our breeding.”  He poured himself a second glass of liquor from Fentress’ decanter.  “I wonder if it is possible to insult you,” and he tossed glass and contents in Fentress’ face.  The colonel’s thin features were convulsed.  The judge watched him with a scornful curling of the lips.  “I am treating you better than you deserve,” he taunted.

“To-morrow morning at sun-up at Boggs’ racetrack!” cried Fentress.  The judge bowed with splendid courtesy.

“Nothing could please me half so well,” he declared.  He turned to the others.  “Gentlemen, this is a private matter.  When I have met Colonel Fentress I shall make a public announcement of why this appeared necessary to me; until then I trust this matter will not be given publicity.  May I ask your silence?” He bowed again, and abruptly passed from the room.

His three friends followed in his steps, leaving Fentress standing by the table, the ghost of a smile on his thin lips.

As if the very place were evil, the judge hurried down the drive toward the road.  At the gate he paused and turned on his companions, but his features wore a look of dignity that forbade comment or question.  He held out his hand to Yancy.

“Sir,” he said, “if I could command the riches of the Indies, it would tax my resources to meet the fractional part of my obligations to you.”

“Think of that!” said Yancy, as much overwhelmed by the judge’s manner as by his words.

“His Uncle Bob shall keep his place in my grandson’s life!  We’ll watch him grow into manhood together.”  The judge was visibly affected.  A smile of deep content parted Mr. Yancy’s lips as his muscular fingers closed about the judge’s hand with crushing force.