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Updated: June 24, 2025
This call brought a half-grown black boy from about a corner of the tavern, to whom Murrell relinquished his horse. "Let's liquor," said the captain over his shoulder, moving off in the direction of the bar. "Come on, Nevvy!" said Yancy following, and they all entered the tavern. "Well, here's to the best of good luck!" said Murrell, as he raised his glass to his lips.
Hues and his party had turned south when they issued from the wood path. No doubt Murrell was being taken to Memphis. Ware laughed harshly. The outlaw would be free before another dawn broke.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Waiting to arrest you ain't that plain?" said Hues, with a grim smile. The outlaw's hands dropped at his side, limp and helpless. With some idea that he might attempt to draw a weapon one of the men took hold of him, but Murrell was nerveless to his touch; his face had gone a ghastly white and was streaked with the markings of terror.
"If I can be of any service to you " he began, with just a touch of awkwardness in his manner. "No, I thank you, Mr. Carrington," said Betty quickly. "Good night... good-by," he turned away, and Betty saw his tall form disappear in the twilight. Murrell had ridden out of the hills some hours back.
Tom might entertain him if he liked at his office, but the doors of Belle Plain were closed against Captain Murrell; he was not to set his foot inside of them. As Murrell approached, the hot color surged into Betty's face. As for Hannibal, he had gone white to the lips, and his small hand clutched hers desperately; he was remembering all the terror of that hot dawn at Slosson's.
"What makes you go? Was it something that woman told you? Are they coming after us, Miss Betty? Is it Captain Murrell?" "Captain Murrell?" There was less of mystery now, but more of terror, and her hand stole up to her heart, and, white and slim, rested against the black fabric of her dress. "Don't you be scared, Miss Betty!" said Hannibal.
"We'll let 'em in where I can talk to 'em," he said almost gaily. "Besides, they'll come in anyhow when they get ready, so there's no sense in exciting them." In the court-house, Murrell, bound hand and foot, was seated between Carrington and the Earl of Lambeth in the little railed-off space below the judge's bench.
"Same here," responded Yancy. Murrell pulled out a roll of bills, one of which he tossed on the bar. Then after a moment's hesitation he detached a second bill from the roll and turned to Hannibal. "Here, youngster a present for you;" he said good-naturedly. Hannibal, embarrassed by the unexpected gift, edged to his Uncle Bob's side.
"Well, by thunder!" cried the man in utter amazement. Murrell looked into Hues' face. "You you " and the words thickened on his tongue becoming an inarticulate murmur. "It's all up, John," said Hues. "No!" said Murrell, recovering himself. "You may as well turn me loose you can't arrest me!" "I've done it," answered Hues, with a laugh. "I've been on your track for six months."
I been here heaps of times fotchin' letters fo' Mas'r Tom," added George. "Who were the letters for?" asked the Kentuckian, greatly surprised. "They was fo' that Captain Murrell; seems like him and Mas'r Tom was mixed up in a sight of business." "When was this recently?" inquired Carrington. He was turning this astonishing statement of the slave over in his mind.
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