“You’ll get nothing from me.”
“That is the worst; I know it. Why did you help the man to escape? No one is safe—no one. And I, least of all; for now he regards me as his enemy. He has sworn vengeance; he may come on me and cut my throat.”
“Not much throat to be cut, Pasco.”
“There is my money-box”—
“Box, not money.”
“He may set fire to my house—my barns—burn me and my wife—your sister—Kitty—your daughter. Don’t you care for that?”
“I am not afraid. If you went after him, and have angered him, well, we helped him, as you suppose, and have won his good-will.”
“As I know. Have I not found you here? Who else could have rolled down the rocks? Show me your hands. There, I said so!—there is blood on Kate’s hands; they are cut and bruised. She has been doing what she could; and you, her father, who ought to have known better, have encouraged her. Rascals! rogues!—rogues all!”
“And oh, how honest am I!—eh, Pasco?”
“Of course I’m an honest man. I don’t encourage burglars, and murderers, and incendiaries.”