“But it came to your notice that Miss Malroy has been in a disturbed mental state ever since Mr. Norton's murder? I am interested in this point, Mr. Hicks, because your experience is so entirely at variance with my own. It was my privilege to see and speak with her yesterday afternoon; I was profoundly impressed by her naturalness and composure.” The judge smiled, then he leaned forward across the desk. “What were you doing up here early this morning--hasn't a hog for work like you got any business of his own at that hour?” The judge's tone was suddenly offensive. “Look here, what right have you got to try and pump me?” cried Hicks. For no discernible reason Mr. Cavendish spat on his palms. “Mr. Hicks,” said the judge, urbane and gracious, “I believe in frankness.” “Sure,” agreed Hicks, mollified by the judge's altered tone. “Therefore I do not hesitate to say that I consider you a damned scoundrel!” concluded the judge. Mr. Cavendish, accepting the judge's ultimatum as something which must debar Hicks from all further consideration, and being, as he was, exceedingly active and energetic by nature, if one passed over the various forms of gainful industry, uttered a loud whoop and threw himself on the overseer. There was a brief struggle and Hicks went down with the Earl of Lambeth astride of him; then from his boot leg that knightly soul flashed a horn-handled tickler of formidable dimensions. The judge, Yancy, and Mahaffy, sprang from their chairs. Mr. Mahaffy was plainly shocked at the spectacle of Mr. Cavendish's lawless violence. Yancy was disturbed too, but not by the moral aspects of the case; he was doubtful as to just how his friend's act would appeal to the judge. He need not have been distressed on that score, since the judge's one idea was to profit by it. With his hands on his knees he was now bending above the two men. “What do you want to know, judge?” cried Cavendish, panting from his exertions. “I'll learn this parrot to talk up!” “Hicks,” said the judge, “it is in your power to tell us a few things we are here to find out.” Hicks looked up into the judge's face and closed his lips grimly. “Mr. Cavendish, kindly let him have the point of that large knife where he'll feel it most!” ordered the judge. “Talk quick!” said Cavendish with a ferocious scowl. “Talk--or what's to hinder me slicing open your woozen?” and he pressed the blade of his knife against the overseer's throat. “I don't know anything about Miss Betty,” said Hicks in a sullen whisper. “Maybe you don't, but what do you know about the boy?” Hicks was silent, but he was grateful for the judge's question. From Tom Ware he had learned of Fentress' interest in the boy. Why should he shelter the colonel at risk to himself? “If you please, Mr. Cavendish!” said the judge quietly nodding toward the knife. “You didn't ask me about him,” said Hicks quickly. “I do now,” said the judge. “He was here yesterday.”