A step sounded in the hall and an instant later Hicks entered the room without the formality of knocking.  Ware recognized his presence with a glance of indifference, but did not speak.  Hicks slouched to his employer’s side and handed him a note which proved to be from Fentress.  Ware read and tossed it aside.

“If he wants to see me why don’t he come here?” he growled.

“I reckon that old fellow they call Judge Price has sprung something sudden on the colonel,” said Hicks.

“He was out here the first thing this morning; you’d have thought he owned Belle Plain.  There was a couple of strangers with him, and he had me in and fired questions at me for half an hour, then he hiked off up to The Oaks.”

“Murrell’s been arrested,” said Ware in a dull level voice.  Hicks gave him a glance of unmixed astonishment.

“No!” he cried.

“Yes, by God!”

“Who’d risk it?”

“Risk it?  Man, he almost fainted dead away—­a damned coward.  Hell!”

“How do you know this?” asked Hicks, appalled.

“I was with him when he was taken—­it was Hues the man he trusted more than any other!” Ware gave the overseer a ghastly grin and was silent, but in that silence he heard the drumming of his own heart.  He went on.  “I tell you to save himself John Murrell will implicate the rest of us; we’ve got to get him free, and then, by hell—­we ought to knock him in the head; he isn’t fit to live!”

“The jail ain’t built that’ll hold him!!” muttered Hicks.

“Of course, he can’t be held,” agreed Ware.  “And ’he’ll never be brought to trial; no lawyer will dare appear against him, no jury will dare find him guilty; but there’s Hues, what about him?” He paused.  The two men looked at each other for a long moment.

“Where did they carry the captain?” inquired Hicks.

“I don’t know.”

“It looks like the Clan was in a hell-fired hole—­but shucks!  What will be easier than to fix Hues?—­and while they’re fixing folks they’d better not overlook that old fellow Price.  He’s got some notion about Fentress and the boy.”  Mr. Hicks did not consider it necessary to explain that he was himself largely responsible for this.

“How do you know that?” demanded Ware.

“He as good as said so.”  Hicks looked uneasily at the planter.  He knew himself to be compromised.  The stranger named Cavendish had forced an admission from him that Murrell would not condone if it came to his knowledge.  He had also acquired a very proper and wholesome fear of Judge Slocum Price.  He stepped close to Ware’s side.  “What’ll come of the girl, Tom?  Can you figure that out?” he questioned, sinking his voice almost to a whisper.  But Ware was incapable of speech, again his terrors completely overwhelmed him.  “I reckon you’ll have to find another overseer.  I’m going to strike out for Texas,” said Hicks.