“I leave that to the magistrate, when he tries, and commits you to prison.” “No, no, you will not send me there!” “I shall certainly have you tried and punished.” “Uncle! I beseech you! Let me speak to you alone. I did not do it. I must have a word with you, where no one can see, no one can hear.” “Indeed, I shall not consent. You want to induce me not to prosecute. I know what you will say. I know how you will appeal to my feelings. You know well enough what a lovin’ and tender and feelin’ heart I’ve always shown. But this won’t do. It won’t do. I’ve borne the slights and the slanders because o’ the last fire, and folk cried out again’ me’I did it for the insurance; and now’now I hope I’ll make all believe I’m not the guilty party. They must look elsewhere. Take her in charge as an incendiary, constable. Do your duty.” “Uncle! I beseech you! For my sake, for your own, go no further in this.” “I must proceed, if only to clear myself.” “Uncle!” In her anxiety she held him. “You do not know my reasons. I pray you, I pray you on behalf of me and dear aunt, as well as yourself’some terrible thing will happen otherwise!” “I’ll look to that’that no more terrible things happen. Now, constable, she’s threatenin’ to burn the house down over my head, to burn me and my missus in our beds. You heard her. You all heard her threaten us. I call you to witness.” “I will do no harm to anyone. I entreat a word, a word in private,” urged Kate. “I’ll have no word in private,” said Pepperill. “What you have to say, say out; lies, lies all it will be,” he added. “I cannot say it before all. I must speak it in your ear.” “I won’t listen to nothing,” said Pepperill. “And I,” said Pooke, “I won’t allow of no tamperin’ wi’ justice, no persuadin’ not to prosecute. We’ve had enough of these little games here. This is the third fire, and we’ll have someone punished for this if I can manage it.” “You do not know what you are doing, uncle,” gasped Kitty, staggering to her feet. “I reckon I know pretty well,” he answered coldly. “You do not. You will bitterly, bitterly rue it. Do not rush on what must happen, and then tear yourself in grief and dismay that you did not listen to me.” “Listen how she threatens. Tell’e what, Mr. Pooke, there’ll be no safety for none i’ the parish so long as she’s at large. Silence, Kitty! Neither the constable nor I will hear another word but what concerns this fire, and what will serve to convict you.” “Did you go with the lantern all along wi’ Jane Redmore?” asked Pooke. Kate recovered her composure, and, with a despairing action of the hands, dashed the tears from her eyes. “Answer me,” said Pooke; “no prevarication.” “I went out with Jane.” “Did you accompany her home?” “No, only a little way.” “How far?” “To the gate.” “What! not into the lane even?” “No.” “How long was she absent?” asked Pooke. “Long enough for me to draw up a document,” said Pepperill. “What should you say, Zerah? Half an hour?”