“Judge Price—Colonel Fentress'' said the judge.
“Judge Price,” uncertainly, and still advancing.
“I had flattered myself that you must have heard of me,” said the judge.
“I think I have,” said Fentress, pausing now.
“He thinks he has!” muttered the judge under his breath.
“Will you come in?” it was more a question than an invitation.
“If you are at liberty.” The colonel bowed. “Allow me,” the judge continued. “Colonel Fentress—Mr. Mahaffy, Mr. Yancy and Mr. Cavendish.” Again the colonel bowed.
“Will you step into the library?”
“Very good,” and the judge followed the colonel briskly down the hall.
When they entered the library Fentress turned and took stock of his guests. Mahaffy he had seen before; Yancy and Cavendish were of course strangers to him, but their appearance explained them; last of all his glance shifted to the judge. He had heard something of those activities by means of which Slocum Price had striven to distinguish himself, and he had a certain curiosity respecting the man. It was immediately satisfied. The judge had reached a degree of shabbiness seldom equaled, and but for his mellow, effulgent personality might well have passed for a common vagabond; and if his dress advertised the state of his finances, his face explained his habits. No misconception was possible about either.