The farmer looked up to see the fat merchant standing in the doorway.

"Whoever the man may be, stop him!" shouted the merchant in a voice as high as the cry of a hog caller. "I saw him, I tell you! I saw a man run out with my sack of gold coins just as I came back from the wood-shed!"

Rudolph Leopold Nickolos Lazare was about to tell the merchant about Neighbor Nicknish leaving the store when he felt hard hands grab him by the shoulder.

It was Constable Kroc.  The constable quickly bound the hands of the farmer with rough rope.

“Come with me to the dungeon,” said Constable Kroc.  “You will have to stay there until Magistrate Miklic returns to town and can hear your case.”

“But I have no case,” protested Rudolph Leopold Nickolos Lazare.  “I am innocent of any wrongdoing!”

But Constable Kroc kept pushing him toward the dungeon.

“You will wait here,” said Constable Kroc, pushing the prisoner into the dungeon.  “You must wait here for Magistrate Miklic’s return from across the mountain.  While you wait, you will neither see nor hear anyone.”

The dungeon door swung shut.  The prisoner, Lazare, heard the iron bolt lock into place.

The prisoner was sad as he looked around.  The walls were stone.  There was only one window and it was barred.  Straw covered the floor where two mice played.  There was a wooden bed and a chair and a rickety table.  The furnishings were decayed.  The air was damp.  The light was dim.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” cried Lazare.  “What will my poor, dear family do now?  How will they get the crop in without me?  I must find a way.  I must.”

A tear rolled down the cheek of the imprisoned farmer as he sat down on the crude chair.  The mice jumped and squeaked and played hide-and-seek and sat up on their hind legs as if they understood Rudolph Leopold Nickolos Lazare and wanted very much to please him.