Pasco mopped his brow, and, tearing up some ferns, dry though they were, proceeded to fan his face.
“Why? Do you ask? For the public security, of course. And now”—again he puffed—"now I can’t talk; my wind is gone."
Pepperill looked into the ravine. He could see that the men on the farther side of the stream were at a nonplus. The fugitive had escaped them, had dived out of their sight into the coppice-wood, and they knew that pursuit was in vain. He turned sharply on his brother-in-law.
“This is your doing—you and Kate. First you give him work, and then you let him escape. He who helps a felon is a felon himself.”
“My dear Pasco,” said Jason Quarm, laughing, “what makes you so fiery in this matter?”
“Fiery? of course I’m fiery. And look there, Jason! There are the workmen, a dozen of them, doing nothing, and we shall have to pay their wages for a half day, and nothing to show for it.”
“Whose fault is that? You sent them from their tasks.”
“Yes, to catch a villain.”
“Which was no concern of yours.”
“It is a concern of mine, and of every honest man. How can one be safe with such a malefactor at large? I have my house, my stores; I shall not be able to sleep at night with ease, knowing that this fellow is at large. If anything happens, I shall come on you.”