"I refer to your brother Carl!"

"Carl, the half-witted Carl."

"O, he is in no want of wit, and his weak mind shall not serve him as a
protection when he stands before the justice. Theft is theft, no matter
who commits it. At least so the law considers it."

"The game!" cried Magde clasping her hands in despair and terror.

"You are right, the game that he stole from me this morning while I was
sleeping. I knew full well that the proud and conscientious Magde, would
not deny that he had brought it home."

"But who could have--have--"

"Right, who could have believed that he would have done so, and that is
the very point, and an unlucky one, for it proves that he must have been
seen while committing the theft."

"How terrible this is! A few days ago I happened to say that I wished we
had some game for our old father, and now--now--"

"Calm yourself," interrupted Mr. Fabian, extending his hand and
enforcing his consolation by a love-tap upon Magde's shoulder. In her
affliction Magde did not withdraw from this salute, and Mr. Fabian had
an opportunity of gazing upon her lovely neck for a full moment, to
prolong which he would have given the value of a hundred hares and
partridges. But Magde arousing herself from her stupor, looked her guest
full in the face, and there read an expression which displeased her.