Allow no one to enter the house unless they have business with me, or as I send for them--you understand?
After you have cleared the house, you may bring me a decanter of corn whisky--stop a bit--you may ask the sheriff to step here." "Yes, Sah." And Steve withdrew.
The judge drew an easy-chair up to the flat-topped desk that stood in the center of the room, and seated himself.
"Are you going to make this the excuse for another drunk, Price?
If so, I feel the greatest contempt for you," said Mahaffy sternly.
The judge winced at this.
"You have made a regrettable choice of words, Solomon," he urged gently.
"Where's your feeling for the boy ?" "Here!" said the judge, with an eloquent gesture, resting his hand on his heart.
"If you let whisky alone, I'll believe you, otherwise what I have said must stand." The door opened, and the sheriff slouched into the room.

He was chewing a long wheat straw, and his whole appearance was one of troubled weakness.
"Morning," he said briefly.
"Sit down, Sheriff," and the judge indicated a meek seat for the official in a distant corner.

"Have you learned anything ?" he asked.
The sheriff shook his head.
"What you turning all these neighbors out of doors for ?" he questioned.
"We don't want people tracking in and out the house, Sheriff.

Important evidence may be destroyed.

I propose examining the slaves first--does that meet with your approval ?" "Oh, I've talked with them, they don't know nothing," said the sheriff.
"No one don't know nothing." "Please God, we may yet put our fingers on some villain who does," said the judge.
Outside it was noised about that judge Price had taken matters in hand--he was the old fellow who had been warned to keep his mouth shut, and who had never stopped talking since.