“I thought you'd sent him out of the county?” muttered Ware, his face livid.
“Look here, Tom, I don't ask your help, but I won't stand your interference. I'm going to have the girl.”
“John, you'll ruin yourself with your damned crazy infatuation!” It was Fentress, no longer able to control himself, who spoke.
“No, I won't, Colonel, but I'm not going to discuss that. All I want is for Tom to go to Memphis and stay there for a couple of days. When he comes back Belle Plain and its niggers will be as good as his. I am going to take the girl away from there to-night. I don't ask your help and you needn't ask what comes of her afterward. That will be my affair.” Murrell's burning eyes shifted from one to the other.
“A beautiful and accomplished young lady—a great heiress—is to disappear and no solution of the mystery demanded by the public at large!” said Fentress with an acid smile. Murrell laughed contemptuously.
“What's all this fuss over Norton's death amounted to?” he said.
“Are you sure you have come to the end of that, John?” inquired Fentress, still smiling.
“I don't propose to debate this further,” rejoined Murrell haughtily. Instantly the colonel's jaw became rigid. The masterful airs of this cutthroat out of the hills irked him beyond measure. Murrell turned to Ware.
“How soon can you get away from here, Tom?” he asked abruptly.
“By God, I can't go too soon!” cried the planter, staggering to his feet. He gave Fentress a hopeless beaten look. “You're my witness that first and last I've no part in this!” he added.