“Because’I cannot say.”
“Oh, you cannot say? Mind, what you speak now may be used again’ you at your trial. I’m bound to tell you that, and you ain’t obliged to answer. Nevertheless, if you can give a reasonable account of yourself, I’m not called on to think you guilty, and arrest you. What was you a-doing of yourself all that half an hour, when you wasn’t with Jane Redmore, a-seeing of her home?”
He paused for an answer, and received none.
“Am I to understand you won’t say? You ain’t forced to do so, you know.”
“I had rather not say,” replied Kate in a low voice.
“I suppose there was a candle in the lantern when you went out?”
“Yes.”
“Was it burnt out?” Pooke looked into the socket in the lantern. “No,” he said; “it has illicitly been removed. There is no guttering of grease. How do you account for that?”
Kate made no answer.
“We know very well how your rick was fired,” said Pepperill. “It seems to me, Mr. Pooke, that mine was set alight to in much the same way.”