began to load the pistols afresh with feverish haste, and Mahaffy,
staring at him in amazement, saw that of a sudden the sweat was dripping
from him. But the judge's excitement prevented his attempting another
shot at once, twice his hand was raised, twice it was lowered, the
third time the pistol cracked and the candle's flame was blown level,
fluttered for a brief instant, and went out.

"Did I nick the tallow, Hannibal?" The judge spoke anxiously.

"Yes, sir, both shots."

"We must remedy that," said the judge. Then, as rapidly as he could
load and fire, bullet after bullet was sent fairly through the flame,
extinguishing it each time. Mahaffy was too astonished at this display
of skill even to comment, while Hannibal's delight knew no bounds. "That
will do!" said the judge at last. He glanced down at the pistol in his
hand. "This is certainly a gentleman's weapon!" he murmured.

CHAPTER XX. THE WARNING

Norton had ridden down to Belle Plain ostensibly to view certain of
those improvements that went so far toward embittering Tom Ware's
existence. Gossip had it that he kept the road hot between the two
places, and this was an added strain on the planter. But Norton did not
go to Belle Plain to see Mr. Ware. If that gentleman had been the sole
attraction, he would have made just one visit suffice; had it preceded
his own, he would have attended Tom's funeral, and considered that he
had done a very decent thing. On the present occasion he and Betty were
strolling about the rehabilitated grounds, and Norton was exhibiting
that interest and enthusiasm which Betty always expected of him.

"You are certainly making the old place look up!" he said, as they
passed out upon the terrace. He had noted casually when he rode up the
lane half an hour before that a horse was tied near Ware's office; a man
now issued from the building and swung himself into the saddle. Norton
turned abruptly to Betty. "What's that fellow doing here?" he asked.

"I suppose he comes to see Tom," said Betty.

"Is he here often?"

"Every day or so." Betty's tone was indifferent. For reasons which had
seemed good and sufficient she had never discussed Captain Murrell with
Norton.

"Every day or so?" repeated Norton. "But you don't see him, Betty?"

"No, of course I don't."

"Tom has no business allowing that fellow around; if he don't know this
some one ought to tell him!" Norton was working himself up into a fine
rage.

"He doesn'