There was one person, and one only, who was a danger to Pasco; one person, and one only, who knew that he had been to Coombe Cellars after having ostensibly left it; one, and one only, that he had been on the spot precisely at the time when, presumably, the fire broke out.
If Kate Quarm were to speak, then what he had done was done in vain; the Company would refuse to pay the sum for which his stock was insured, and he might be suspected of having caused the death of his brother-in-law. Would not Kate speak—when she knew that her father was dead? Might she not make dangerous admissions should there be an inquest? The charred corpse or burnt bones would be discovered when the ashes of the store were removed, and Jason’s cart and ass being in Coombe, would lead to the conclusion that he, Jason Quarm, had caused the conflagration and had perished in it. It would be supposed that he had gone to the Cellars, and, finding it locked and no one within, had taken shelter for the night in the warehouse, where he had lit his pipe, gone to sleep, and inadvertently had set fire to the coals and wool.
But then—what might Kate be brought to say if questioned by the coroner?
Pepperill entered the shed and called the girl. He called twice before he received an answer. Then he struck a light, and as the match flared he saw before him the drowsy face of Kate.
“Oh, uncle! What a long time you have been away! I fell asleep.”
“Long time? I have not been a quarter of an hour. I ran to the Cellars and ran back the whole way.”
“It has been more than a quarter of an hour, Uncle Pasco. I waited, watching for ever such a time, and then I went to sleep.”
“You are mistaken. Because you shut your eyes you think the time was long.”
“What is that, uncle, you are burning?”
“A lucifer match.”