For twenty seconds the old copper faced clock on the mantel ticked off the time loudly in the silent room. Then Felix Houston spoke.
"It is not in my power, and even if it were, I would not set at liberty a man whose depredations and robberies have hung over this country for ten years. You have asked me too much, Sargent. Go home and think this matter over, and when you are calmer, more yourself, you will see the exaggerated view you are taking. In the morning you will see everything differently. Your responsibility in the case will have passed from you entirely, and you will see it through the eyes of a sane man—you are hardly that, now."
"In the morning may be too late to think of anything," Sargent answered hurriedly, handing him Jervais' challenge.
Judge Houston read it at a glance and handed it back to him.
"Is that the note that was sent here? I left it on the table."
"Yes. May your man take my answer?"
"Of course. When?"
And without answering, Sargent wrote a few lines at the table, and folding the paper carefully and sealing it, handed it to the slave who was already waiting at the door.
When the man was gone and they were alone again, Sargent stretched out his hands and grasped Judge Houston's.
"Won't you grant me that request?" he said, an expression of pitiful yearning in his eyes. "It may be my last. I should not mind dying if I knew the man were free," he added tentatively.