His clothes were very old, and
a good deal torn, and he wore one boot and one shoe.
"Whew!" said I. "Have you been giving him whisky?"
"No," whispered Euphemia, "of course not. I noticed that smell,
and he said he had been cleaning his clothes with alcohol."
"They needed it, I'm sure," I remarked as I turned away. "And
now," said I, "where's the girl?"
"This is her afternoon out. What is the matter? You look
frightened."
"Oh, I'm not frightened, but I find I must go down to the station
again. Just run up and put on your bonnet. It will be a nice
little walk for you."
I had been rapidly revolving the matter in my mind. What was I to
do with this wretch who was now asleep in my outer kitchen? If I
woke him up and drove him off,--and I might have difficulty in
doing it,--there was every reason to believe that he would not go
far, but return at night and commit some revengeful act. I never
saw a more sinister-looking fellow. And he was certainly drunk.
He must not be allowed to wander about our neighborhood. I would
go for the constable and have him arrested.
So I locked the door from the kitchen into the house and then the
outside door of the kitchen, and when my wife came down we hurried
off. On the way I told her what I intended to do, and what I
thought of our guest. She answered scarcely a word, and I hoped
that she was frightened. I think she was.
The constable, who was also coroner of our township, had gone to a
creek, three miles away, to hold an inquest, and there was nobody
to arrest the man.
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