“A word alone.”
“What is it, Kitty?”
“Say nothing to anyone of what you saw and heard that night.”
CHAPTER XLIV
PUDDICOMBE IN F
The mystery of the disappearance of Jason Quarm was not cleared up; on the contrary, it had become more profound. The excavation of the ruins had revealed nothing. It had disclosed no remains of the lost man, and opinions were divided. Some contended that the intense heat of the mass of coals, a heat which had split the flooring slates and burnt the soil beneath them to the depth of six inches, reddening it like brick, that this heat had completely consumed the unhappy man. On the other hand, others asked, How could that be? Some of the wool was scorched, not burnt; a man would make his way from fire; he had eyes and arms, and though Quarm was crippled, yet he could extricate himself from danger, or at all events use his powerful lungs so as to call for help. Moreover, Quarm wore brass buttons. Even if his body had been resolved to ashes, the molten buttons would be found; but no metal of any sort had been discovered on the floor.
To this responded the first: If Quarm were not burnt, how was it that he had not put in an appearance? His bundle of clothes was found in the cart. If he had escaped, he would surely either have made known his escape, or have gone off with his parcel of necessaries. Some hinted that, finding the Cellars locked, he had made his way into the warehouse, there to spend the night, and had gone to sleep with his pipe alight, and the pipe had set fire to combustibles in the place. But then, supposing this, why was his body not found if he had been smothered by smoke? and if he had escaped, why had he not gone off with donkey, and cart, and bundle? There was the puzzle.
Others hinted that Pasco Pepperill was the gainer by the fire, and that he had had a finger in setting the stores alight. It was suspicious that he had sent away his wife, and had gone away with his niece just before the conflagration broke out. There was an ugly rumour afloat, that he had returned secretly to the Cellars, and had there met and quarrelled with his brother-in-law. This rumour was constructed out of the reported admission of Kate, and something, it was believed, that the schoolmaster had said. But neither of these, on being interrogated by the inquisitive, would say a word. The schoolmaster, with the cheek of a stuck-up creature, had answered all inquiries with the question, “Who has authorised you to catechise me? If the matter is brought into court, I will say what little I know on oath before the magistrate. I will say nothing to self-constituted inquisitors.”
Whenever this answer of the schoolmaster was repeated, and it was so a hundred times in the course of a week, it never failed to elicit an indignant remark, generally couched thus: “Them schoolmasters want setting down. They’re owdacious cocky monkeys. But they’re a low lot’they must be taught their place, which is under our heels. They gives theirselves airs, as if they was parsons and knew everything, but they lives on our voluntary subscriptions, and unless they come to eat humble-pie, we’ll withdraw our farthing-in-the-pound rate. ’Tisn’t for our pleasure or profit they exist, but just because of a fad o’ the pass’n. Mr. Puddicombe was the man for us. Him we could respect. And now they sez that Mr. Puddicombe is compoging a Tee-dum which will cut out even Jackson.”
The minds and hearts of Kitty and her aunt were sensibly relieved. The girl had watched the exploration of the cinder heaps with quivering nerves and brooding fear. What might not each spade disclose? Into what an object of horror might not her poor father be reduced? But, as the floor of the warehouse was cleared, and every mass of ash turned over, and nothing revealed, her heart swelled, and the blood began again to pulsate in her arteries. She covered her face with her hands, and lifted her heart half in thanksgiving and half in prayer. And yet, what had become of him? How was it that, if he were alive, he had given no signs of life?
It was ascertained that Jason Quarm had not crossed the estuary, either by the bridge or by boat, at Shaldon. It was inconceivable that he had traced the creek up to its head, below Newton Abbot, to cross the water there, as there was no path along the water-side, and he must have come into the road and made such a circuit as was not possible for a man in his crippled condition.