NEIGHBOUR. I don't think he can have crossed the bridge yet.
MICHAEL [snatches up his cap and goes out quickly, followed by the Neighbour] I'll catch the knave. It's him.
MARTHA. Oh, what a shame, what a shame! It's surely him.
AKULÍNA. And suppose it's not. It happened once, some twenty years ago, that they accused a man of having stolen a horse. A crowd collected. One says: “I myself saw him catching it.” Another says he saw him leading it. It was a big piebald horse, easily noticed. All the people began searching for it, and in the forest they found the lad. “It's you,” they say. He protests and swears it was not him. They say: “What's the good of listening to him; the women said quite certainly it's him.” Then he said something rude. George Lapúshkin (he's dead now) was a hot-tempered man. He dashed at him slap bang, and struck him on the mouth. “It was you,” said he, and hit out at him. Then all the others fell on him and began beating him with sticks and fists till they killed him. And what do you think!.… Next day the real thief was found. The lad they killed had only gone into the forest to choose a tree to cut down.
MARTHA. Yes, of course, we may be sinning against him. He has come down very low, but seemed a good fellow.
AKULÍNA. Yes, he has sunk very low. One can't expect much from the likes of him.
MARTHA. They're shouting. I expect they're bringing him back.
Enter Michael, Neighbour, an old man and a lad, pushing the Tramp before them.
MICHAEL [with the parcel in his hands, excitedly to his wife] It was found on him. [To Tramp] You thief! You dog!
AKULÍNA [to Martha] It's him, poor soul. See how he hangs his head.