“What do you mean!” exclaimed Magde dropping her shuttle in her terror.

In the meantime the worthy gentleman had gradually approached Magde, but so softly and cautiously that he resembled a cat about pouncing upon a trembling mouse.

“Heaven forbid,” replied Mr. Fabian, “that I should think that you knew anything about it.  A woman so virtuous as you are, would not engage in any wrong action; but I do think that a man’s property should be respected.”

“Mr. H——­, if you have any evil tidings speak them out at once.  Perhaps Jon Jonson has arrived, and the goods that Ragnar—­”

“With a deep blush Magde suddenly ceased speaking; but her visitor required nothing further.  He pretended, however, not to have understood her words; but as he well knew that Jon Jonson’s vessel was still at Goteborg for he expected some merchandise in it himself, it did not require much penetration for him to surmise that the mate Lonner had taken an opportunity of sending home some smuggled goods by his friend Jonson.

“I know nothing about Jon Jonson’s vessel,” said Mr. H——­ after a moment’s pause, “but, I can readily perceive that you expect some compliments from your husband.”

“Yes, not only compliments; but also a quantity of merchandise,” replied Magde, who, after a moment’s reflection had concluded that it was better not to make a secret of it, “as Ragnar had a little overplus he concluded to send us a few necessary articles from Goteborg.  We are poor, and cannot demand credit until he returns.”

“It is better not to do so,” replied her visitor, “but at present we have neither Jon Jonson nor Ragnar to speak about.  A certain person in this neighborhood has placed himself in an unpleasant position.”

“Who can it be?” exclaimed Magde, terrified by Mr. Fabian’s imposing aspect, “I will run and call father!”

“If the old man is not at home,” replied her visitor concealing his joy by assuming a frown of vexation, “it will be better not to call him as it will only cause the venerable man much pain.”

“Tell me, do tell me, what has been done?” stammered the frightened woman.

“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.”