s who've
been here long enough have learned that there are some of these
conundrums we'd best not ask an answer for."

The judge pondered this.

"Do you mean to tell me, sir, that freedom of speech is not allowed?" he
demanded, with some show of heat.

"Perfect freedom, if you pick and choose your topic," responded Mr.
Saul.

"Humph!" ejaculated the judge.

"Now you might talk to me with all the freedom you like, but I'd
recommend you were cautious with strangers. There have been those who've
talked freely that have been advised to keep still or harm would come of
it."

"And did harm come of it?" asked the judge.

"They always kept still."

"What do you mean by talking freely?"

"Like asking how so and so got the money to buy his last batch of
niggers," explained Mr. Saul rather vaguely.

"And Colonel Fentress is one of those about whose affairs it is best not
to show too much curiosity?"

"He is, decidedly. His friends appear to set a heap by him. Another of
his particular intimates is a gentleman by the name of Murrell."

The judge nodded.

"I've met him," he said briefly. "Does he belong hereabouts?"

"No, hardly; he seems to hold a sort of roving commission. His home is,
I believe, near Denmark, in Madison County."

"What's his antecedents?"

"He's as common a white man as ever came out of the hills, but he
appears to stand well with Colonel Fentress."

"Colonel Fentress!" The judge spat in sheer disgust.

"You don't appear to fancy the colonel--" said Mr. Saul.

"I don't fancy wearing a gag--and damned if I do!" cried the judge.

"Oh, it ain't that exactly; it's just minding your own business. I
reckon you'll find there's lot's to be said in favor of goin' ca'mly on
attending strictly to your own affairs, sir," concluded Mr. Saul.

Acting on a sudden impulse, the judge turned to the door. The business
and the hope that had brought him there were forgotten. He muttered
something about returning later, and hastily quitted the office.

"Well, I reckon he's a conundrum too!" reflected Mr. Saul, as the door
swung shut.

In the hall the judge's steps dragged and his head was bowed. He was
busy with his memories, memories that spanned the desolate waste of
years in which he had walked from shame to shame, each blacker than the
last. Then passion shook him.

"Damn him--may God-for ever damn him!" he cried under his breath, in
a fierce whisper. A burning mist before his eyes, he shuffled down