He feared every moment to hear her say, “Uncle, what is that light shining over Coombe? Can there be a fire?”
Instead of that she said, “Uncle, did you see nothing of my father? I am quite sure that was he who drove by after we had got into Mr. Ash’s field. I heard his voice. I know his way with the donkey. I am quite certain that was father.”
“Your father?—no. Never set eyes on him. You were mistaken.”
“I am sure it was my father. I know the rattle of the cart wheel.”
“I say it was not; and take care how you say a word about ever having gone into the field, and about my having returned to the Cellars.”
“Why, uncle?”
“Because Ash will summons me for trespass, and because my horse ate the grass. That’s one reason; but there’s a better one—I don’t choose that you should speak.”
Kate was accustomed to his rough manner, and she did not answer.
Then Pasco’s mind began to work on the theme that had occupied it before. He had been seen driving out of Coombe with Kate at his side. But what of that? Would it not be a sufficient answer to give, were she not to be seen again, that he had met Jason Quarm on the road, and that the man had taken his daughter with him, and that thereupon both had perished in the flames?
The more he considered the matter, the more essential to his security did it seem to him that Kate should be got rid of. The only embarrassment he felt was as to the means to be employed, and the place where it was to be done. Not till she was removed could the weight now oppressing his mind be cast off.