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It's a matter of " he began to fumble in his pockets, and finally produced a small memorandum-book, which he glanced over "it's a matter of $250." "I don't understand you," said Mrs. Catron, in indignant astonishment. "On the 15th of July," said the captain, consulting his memorandum-book, "Roger sold his claim at Nye's Ford for $1,500. Now, le's see.
"Roger Catron left me penniless," said Mrs. Catron, hotly. "Thet's jist what gets me. You oughter have $250 somewhar lying round." Mrs. Catron saw her error. "May I ask what right you have to question me? If you have any, I must refer you to my lawyer or my brother-in-law; if you have none, I hope you will not oblige me to call the servants to put you from the house."
An American family without a genteel skeleton in its closet could scarcely add to that gossip which keeps society from forgetting its members. Nor was it altogether unnatural that presently Mrs. Roger Catron lent herself to this sentimental deception, and began to think that she really was a more exquisitely aggrieved woman than she had imagined.
Judge Wayne was appointed by President Jackson in 1835, and Judge Catron by President Van Buren immediately after his inauguration in 1837, under a bill enlarging the Court, which had been approved by General Jackson. Judge Catron had long been a favorite of General Jackson in Tennessee, and it was understood that in appointing him to the Bench Mr.
At times a groan or a half-articulate cry would come from the "bunk" whereon Roger Catron lay, a circumstance that always seemed to excite Captain Dick to greater effort and more rapid vocalization.
All of Sandy Bar crowded into Robinson's Hall, and long before Captain Dick made his appearance on the platform, with his inevitable memorandum-book, every inch of floor was crowded. The captain began to read the expenditures of Roger Catron with relentless fidelity of detail.
As she entered the room, the sun came out, too, and revealed the prettiness and delicacy of her figure, and I regret to state, also, the somewhat obtrusive plainness of her visitor. "I knew ye'd be sorter disapp'inted at first, not gettin' the regular bearings o' my name, but I'm 'Captain Dick. Mebbe ye've heard your husband that is, your husband ez waz, Roger Catron speak o' me?" Mrs.
"Two now, and two in the morning," continued the captain, quietly releasing one hand only to place two enormous pills in the mouth of the excited Catron, "thar now a drink o' whisky thar, that'll do just enough to take the taste out of yer mouth, wash it down, and belay it, so to speak. And how are the mills running, gin'rally, over at the Bar?"
"Thar is only one item," said Captain Dick, slowly, "only one item, that ez men, ez far-minded men, ez political economists, it seems to me we hez the right to question. It's this: Thar is an item, read to you by me, of $2,000 paid to certing San Francisco detectives, paid out o' the assets o' Roger Catron, for the finding of Roger Catron's body.
Upon resuming the examination, the first witness called for was Mary Catron, the second cook, a woman about thirty-five years of age, with an honest face, but one indicative of a fiery temper. Her testimony was brief, but given with a directness that was amusing. When questioned of the occurrences of the day preceding the murder, she replied,
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