"Don't believe him, the red-handed murderer!" broke out the woman,
fiercely. "He is probably a thief; he killed my poor husband, and then
sat down like a cold-blooded villain that he is, and gorged himself."

Things began to look very serious for poor Carl.

"Your husband is larger and stronger than myself," he urged,
desperately. "How could I overpower him?"

"It looks reasonable, Maria," said the man. "I don't see how the boy
could have killed Mr. Brown, or lifted him upon the hook, even if he did
not resist."

"He murdered him, I tell you, he murdered him!" shrieked the woman, who
seemed bereft of reason. "I call upon you to arrest him."

"I am not a constable, Maria."

"Then tie him so he cannot get away, and go for a constable. I wouldn't
feel safe with him in the house, unless he were tied fast. He might hang
me!"

Terrible as the circumstances were, Carl felt an impulse to laugh. It
seemed absurd to hear himself talked of in this way.

"Tie me if you like!" he said. "I am willing to wait here till some one
comes who has a little common sense. Just remember that I am only a boy,
and haven't the strength of a full-grown man!"

"The boy is right, Maria! It's a foolish idea of yours."