“But I must have a roof over my head at night.”
“Any roof but mine. Will you go, or must I fling you out and down the steps?”
“You’re in a wonderful queer temper to-night. What is up?”
“My temper, as you say, is up; and like to be so—when it is through you I am brought to ruin and beggary.”
He caught Jason by the shoulders, whirled him round, and with hands and knees thrust him out of the door, and then he slammed it behind him and turned the key. Next moment he blew out the light. Then he threw himself panting on the settle and buried his head in his hands.
He had not sat there many minutes before Quarm was kicking at the door, and calling him by name. Transported with anger, Pasco sprang to his feet, took down the blunderbuss that was over the kitchen fire, and, going to the door, half opened it and thrust forth the muzzle of his piece.
“Go away, or I will shoot.”
“This is rank folly!” bawled Jason. “Are you gone demented? Give me shelter for the night; I will do no harm. What do you mean by refusing me such a reasonable request? I tell you I can’t go home—all the Redmores are there packing every corner.”
Jason thrust up the end of the blunderbuss, and put his shoulder to the door.
“I’ll kill you if you trouble me further,” said Pasco between his teeth. “Take the consequences of befriending scoundrels and their families.”