“Even if you didn’t tie me, I would promise to remain here. I don’t want anybody to suspect me of such a thing,” put in Carl.
“How artful he is!” said Mrs. Brown. “Tie him strong, Walter.”
The two were left alone, Carl feeling decidedly uncomfortable. The newly-made widow laid her head upon the table and moaned, glancing occasionally at the body of her husband, as it still hung suspended from the hook.
“Oh, William, I little expected to find you dead!” she groaned. “I only went to the store to buy a pound of salt, and when I come back, I find you cold and still, the victim of a young ruffian! How could you be so wicked?” she demanded fiercely of Carl.
“I have told you that I had nothing to do with your husband’s death, madam.”
“Who killed him, then?” she cried.
“I don’t know. He must have committed suicide.”
“Don’t think you are going to escape in that way. I won’t rest till I see you hung!”
“I wish I had never entered the house,” thought Carl, uncomfortably. “I would rather have gone hungry for twenty four hours longer than find myself in such a position.”
Half an hour passed. Then a sound of voices was heard outside, and half a dozen men entered, including besides the messenger, the constable and a physician.