“And you took nothing away from the place?”
The Swede hesitated. He glanced at his wife, and like an accusing Nemesis, she nodded her head it him.
“Tell the truth, Clem,” she cried shrilly. “Tell about the strange bottle.”
“A bottle?” asked the coroner.
“Yes, but it was of no use,” Sandstrom spoke sulkily now. “It was an old milk bottle.”
“A milk bottle? Then it had nothing to do with the crime.”
“That’s what Ay think. But the wife says to tell. The milk bottle, a pint one, was much buried in the ground.”
“How did it get in so deeply? Was it put there purposely?”
“Ay tank so. It had in it——” The man made a wry face, as at a recollection.
“Well, what?”