The Judge seized the shears and raised them high above his head.
"Kill me, Judge, I deserve it."
The shears fell from the old man's hand, and he dropped upon the chair, his arms upon the table and his face upon them.
"I wish you had struck me."
With a slight motion of the hand the Judge waved him off. Bodney continued: "For your heart there is a cure. There is none for mine. I was a fool, I was caught, I gambled, I couldn't quit, that snake held me, charmed me, hypnotized me. I knocked him down and he bled black on the floor, and I left him lying there, but I could not break loose from him."
The Judge waved him off. "Don't tempt me to look upon your face again."
Bodney did not move. "The old laugh that they have spoken so much about may return; old confidences and an old love will be restored, but there must be a wanderer that can never come back, a fool whom nature made weak. But I feel that if you would give me your hand—I am not deserving of it—but I feel that if I could once more touch that honorable hand, I could go forth an honest man. I would try."
The Judge slowly raised his head. Tears were in his eyes. He held forth his hand. Bodney grasped it, and—was gone.
CHAPTER XXIV.