courage and fear for his safety. "One thing is proven, sir,"
the judge went on; "the man who murdered that poor boy is in our midst;
that point can no longer be disputed. Now, where are their fine-spun
theories as to how he crossed to the Arkansas coast? What does their
mass of speculation and conjecture amount to in the face of this?" He
breathed deep. "My God, sir, the murderer may be the very next man you
pass the time of day with!" Mr. Saul shivered uncomfortably. "And the
case in the hands of that pin-headed fool, Betts!" The judge laughed
derisively as he bowed himself out. He left it with Mr. Saul to
disseminate the news. The judge strutted home with his hat cocked over
one eye, and his chest expanded to such limits that it menaced all
his waistcoat buttons. Perhaps he was under observation. Ah, let the
cutthroats look their full at him!

He established himself in his office. He had scarcely done so when Mr.
Betts knocked at the door. The sheriff came direct from Mr. Saul and
arrived out of breath, but the letter was not mentioned by the judge.
He spoke of the crops, the chance of rain, and the intricacies of county
politics. The sheriff withdrew mystified, wondering why it was he had
not felt at liberty to broach the subject which was uppermost in
his mind. His place was taken by Mr. Pegloe, and on the heels of
the tavern-keeper came Mr. Bowen. Judge Price received them with
condescension, but back of the condescension was an air of reserve
that did not invite questions. The judge discussed the extension of
the national roads with Mr. Pegloe, and the religion of the Persian
fire-worshipers with Mr. Bowen; he permitted never a pause and they
retired as the sheriff had done without sight of the letter.

The judge's office became a perfect Mecca for the idle and the curious,
and while he overflowed with high-bred courtesy he had never seemed so
unapproachable--never so remote from matters of local and contemporary
interest.

"Why don't you show 'em the letter?" demanded Mr. Mahaffy, when they
were alone. "Can't you see they are suffering for a sight of it?"

"All in good time, Solomon." He became thoughtful. "Solomon, I am
thinking of offering a reward for any information that will lead to the
discovery of my anonymous correspondent," he at length observed with a
finely casual air, as if the idea had just occurred to him, and had not
been seething in his brain all day.

"There you go, Price--" began Mahaffy.