This was the consul's theory
and if he had been a bookmaker at a race of wits for life and liberty
he would have offered heavy odds against the plodding sheriff from
Chatham County, Kentucky.
When the meal was concluded the Carib woman came and removed the
dishes and cloth. Reeves strewed the table with excellent cigars,
and Plunkett, with the others, lighted one of these with evident
gratification.
"I may be dull," said Morgan, with a grin and a wink at Bridger; "but
I want to know if I am. Now, I say this is all a joke of Mr.
Plunkett's, concocted to frighten two babes-in-the-woods. Is this
Williamson to be taken seriously or not?"
"'Williams,'" corrected Plunkett gravely. "I never got off any jokes
in my life. I know I wouldn't travel 2,000 miles to get off a poor
one as this would be if I didn't take Wade Williams back with me.
Gentlemen!" continued the sheriff, now letting his mild eyes travel
impartially from one of the company to another, "see if you can find
any joke in this case. Wade Williams is listening to the words I
utter now; but out of politeness, I will speak of him as a third
person. For five years he made his wife lead the life of a dog--No;
I'll take that back. No dog in Kentucky was ever treated as she
was. He spent the money that she brought him--spent it at races, at
the card table and on horses and hunting.
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