ore than words the
contempt he felt for the visitor.

"You young men appear to be quite at your ease," the commissioner said,
surveying our indifference with no favorable eye.

"Why should we not be?" asked Fred; "we have a license for our store, we
have paid for our goods, and owe no man a penny."

"Does your license extend to killing and robbing men?" asked the
commissioner, in an insolent tone, and one that we knew he used to
insult us with.

Fred sprang to his feet, and an angry reply was upon his tongues, but I
managed to check him.

"An explanation of these words is required," I said, as mildly as my
nature would allow; and to my surprise, instead of facing me, and
answering, the commissioner pointed to the stains on the floor, and
asked, in a sneering tone,--

"Whose blood is that?"

"That of an old and helpless man," I returned, bearing his searching
glance without flinching, although I had an inward feeling that told me
that we were standing in a suspicious attitude, and that one false move
would wreck us both.

"Remember," Mr. Sherwin continued, "I do not ask you to criminate
yourselves, but if a full confession is made, I will lay the matter
before the governor-general, and perhaps he may be disposed to grant you
some mercy. I fancy that a frank confession would be the most desirable
course for both of you to pursue," the commissioner said, in a careless
tone, as though he did not care whether we complied with his advice or
not.

"All the confession that we can make is to tell the truth," cried Fred,
who always grew cooler the more imminent the danger; "we will simply
state the facts, and then you can judge of our guilt."

The commissioner made a sign for Fred to go on, although I could see by
his face that he was anticipating a yarn, and was prepared to believe
just as much of it as he pleased.

Fred told the circumstances of the affair just as they occurred, and
without equivocation. Mr. Sherwin listened without interruption, and
also, I will add, without belief.

"Of course I can see the old man?" the commissioner asked, in a
half-sneering manner, as though prepared for us to deny him the right.

"Certainly," answered Fred; and he led the way to the little private
room where Mr. Critchet was lying, and, to our joy, still sleeping,
which argued well for his ultimate recovery.

"Here is the man whom you accuse us of murdering," Fred whispered; "see
what pains we have taken to hasten his en