"That don't seem to help any. They come to call on me so often you'd think I was a preacher or a doctor. An' what's more, my wife's beginnin' to get her dander up. I c'n see what's comin'. If she ever—gee, it will be awful!"
"Then you hain't murdered her yet? I understood you had."
Vicious Lucius looked over his shoulder and drew closer to the Marshal.
"This here strain is gittin' to be too much fer me, Mr. Crow. I can't keep it up much longer. I'm breakin' down. I been thinkin' it over, an' I can't see any way out of it except to go to jail fer a month er two."
"What's the charge?" inquired Marshal Crow.
"There won't be any. I'll do it fer nothing. It won't cost you a cent to arrest me."
"That ain't what I mean. What I mean is what offence have you committed? What law have you broke?"
"Well, it's purty hard to say."
"What charge will your wife make ag'inst you? Somebody has to make one, you know."