‘The man took the dead dog in the bag, and ran to the lodging where his wife was, and knocked stealthily at her door. “It is I,” he whispered.
‘“Come in, husband,” exclaimed the wife, throwing open the door.
‘“Stop! hush! take care! don’t touch me!” said the husband. “There’s blood upon me. Save me! hide me! put me somewhere!”
‘“It’s so long since you’ve been here, no one will think of coming after you here, so you will be quite safe. Sit down and be composed,” said the wife soothingly; and she poured him out wine to drink.
‘But the police were nearer than he fancied. He had thought to finish up the affair in five minutes by explaining all to her. But “the other,” not satisfied with refusing him shelter, had gone and set the police on his track; and here they were after him.
‘The wife’s quick ears heard them on the stairs. “Get into this cupboard quick, and leave me to manage them,” she said.
‘The husband safely stowed away, she opened the door without hesitation, as if she had nothing to hide. “How can you think he is here?” she said when they asked for him. “Ask any of the neighbours how long it is since he has been here.”
‘“Oh, three years,” “four years,” “five,” said various voices of people who had come round at hearing the police arrive.
‘“You see you must have come to the wrong place,” she said. And the husband smiled as he heard her standing out for him so bravely.
‘Her determined manner had satisfied the police; and they were just turning to go when one of them saw tell-tale spots of blood on the floor that had dropped from the dead dog. The track was followed to the cupboard, and the man dragged to prison. It was in vain that he assured them he had killed nothing but a dog.