The judge paused, but the only sound in that expectant silence was the heavy breathing of men.  He drew his unwieldy form erect, while his voice rumbled on, aggressive and threatening in its every intonation.

“You are here to defend something that no longer exists.  Your organization is wrecked, your signals and passwords are known, your secrets have become public property—­I can even produce a list of your members; there are none of you who do not stand in imminent peril—­yet understand, I have no wish to strike at those who have been misled or coerced into joining Murrell’s band!” The judge’s sodden old face glowed now with the magnanimity of his sentiments.  “But I have no feeling of mercy for your leaders, none for Murrell himself.  Put down your guns!—­you can only kill us after we have killed Murrell—­but you can’t kill the law!  If the arch conspirator dies in this room and hour, on whose head will the punishment fall?” He swung round his ponderous arm in a sweeping gesture and shook a fat but expressive forefinger in the faces of those nearest him.  “On yours—­and yours—­and yours!”

Across the space that separated them the judge grinned his triumph at his enemy.  He had known when Fentress entered the room that a word or a sign from him would precipitate a riot, but he knew now that neither this word nor this sign would be given.  Then quite suddenly he strode down the aisle, and foot by foot Fentress yielded ground before his advance.  A murderous light flashed from the judge’s bloodshot eyes and his right hand was stealing toward the frayed tails of his coat.

“Look out—­he’s getting ready to shoot!” cried a frightened voice.

Instantly by doors and windows the crowd, seized with inexplicable panic, emptied itself into the courthouse yard.  Fentress was caught up in the rush and borne from the room and from the building.  When he reached the graveled space below the steps he turned.  The judge was in the doorway, the center of a struggling group; Mr. Bowen, the minister, Mr. Saul and Mr. Wesley were vainly seeking to pinion his arm.

“Draw—­damn you!” he roared at Fentress, as he wrenched himself free, and the crowd swayed to right and left as Fentress was seen to reach for his pistol.

Mr. Saul made a last frantic effort to restrain his friend; he seized the judge’s arm just as the latter’s finger pressed the trigger, and an instant later Fentress staggered back with the judge’s bullet in his shoulder.

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE END AND THE BEGINNING

It was not strange that a number of gentlemen in and about Raleigh yielded to an overmastering impulse to visit newer lands, nor was it strange that the initial steps looking toward the indulgence of their desires should have been taken in secrecy.  Mr. Pegloe was one of the first to leave; Mr. Saul had informed him of the judge’s declared purpose of shooting him on sight.  Even without this useful hint the tavern-keeper had known that he should experience intense embarrassment in meeting the judge; this was now a dreary certainty.