“She is not alone.” “Is Zerah with her?” “No, she is not; Zerah is at Teignmouth, gone there to get me out of one of the difficulties into which you have plunged me.” “I—I got you into difficulties? I am always showing you rope’s-ends by which you may crawl out.” “Who else but yourself has now put me in such an upsetment that I do not know under what stone to look for money; that I’m threatened with legal proceedings; that the bailiffs are on the way to my house?” “It is your own doing, not mine. Who threatens you?” “There is my bill for the wool unmet. There is my account for coals unpaid.” “I have had to do with neither. You acted like a fool about Coaker’s wool—buying when in all the papers it was told how that there had been an importation from New South Wales.” “I never read the papers.” “Then you have no right to do business. You do it at inevitable loss. But this is neither here nor there, above nor below. Where is Kate?” “I have told you—gone to the moor.” “When?” “An hour or two ago.” “With whom?” “With me.” “Then how came you here?” “Because I had left the doors unlocked against impertinent fellows coming in. I left Kate with the trap whilst I ran back. Now, are you content? Out of my house immediately. I want to lock up and go back to her.” “This is a queer tale,” said Quarm. “I have myself but just arrived. I must have passed you on the way.” “Not at all, if we had gone into a friend’s for a cup of tea.” “With what friends were you?” “I shall not stand and be catechised by you. I say, get out. I am going to lock up.” “Now look here, Pasco, and be reasonable. I would not have returned to Coombe and left the men at Dart-meet unlooked after, had I not good news to communicate.” “Good news?” mocked Pepperill. “The best of news would be that you were going to take yourself off.” “I believe we shall sell the oak.” “I have heard of that already—from Coaker.” “Well, I tell you it is so. The authorities at Portsmouth will take it at a reasonable price, if we deliver it.” “There is the thing we can’t do—that spoils it all.” “Yes, we can—deliver it here in the Teign. There is the Stover Canal—we can send it down by that and ship it all to Portsmouth right away.” Pepperill was silent. This was indeed a rift in the cloud. “The only difficulty is not this—it is that we must have the timber sawn at Brimpts, and sent down and put on board in planks. They cannot freight a vessel with rude oak timber unsawn. Now I have a scheme—there is the river Dart pouring down its volumes of water of no good to anyone. Let us put up a saw-mill, and we shall have the oak run into planks and ready for transport in a jiffy.” “And the cost?” “Forty pounds.” “Forty pounds?” roared Pasco, and thrust Quarm from him by a rude stroke on the shoulder. “Where am I to look for forty pence?”