Betrayal at Blackcrest Read Online Free PDF

looking around as though expecting her to come rushing toward me.
    â€œDelia?” he said.
    â€œMy cousin. Your wife …”
    â€œI’m afraid there has been some mistake,” he said calmly.
    I smiled again. “I know this is unexpected, but you will forgive me, won’t you? I didn’t have an address, so I couldn’t write, and when I arrived in Hawkestown I found the telephone wires had blown down. You can understand my dilemma. Delia hasn’t written or phoned since the wedding, and I’m out of work now and had nothing to do, so, on impulse, decided to pay an impromptu visit.…”
    I had been talking rapidly, nervously, smiling as I chattered on, and Derek Hawke had not moved a muscle in his face. The dark, glowering eyes never left my face. The large, wide lips were held in a rigid line of disapproval. I cut myself short and looked at him, afraid now. Something was wrong. I had sensed it immediately.
    â€œI don’t know what your game is, young woman,” the man said, “but I can assure you you won’t get far with it here. I don’t like intruders at Blackcrest, particularly intruders who claim I’m married to a woman I’ve never heard of in my life.”
    I stared at him in stunned silence. Then I gave a nervous laugh.
    â€œWe’ll exchange jokes in the morning,” I said. “Right now I would like to see Delia. Will you fetch her?”
    â€œPerhaps you didn’t understand me,” Derek Hawke replied stiffly.
    â€œBut—” I began. “You’re Derek Hawke. This is Blackcrest. Delia told me—”
    â€œI’ve never heard of this woman,” he said.
    â€œShe’s your wife. The butler said Mrs. Hawke—”
    â€œThe Mrs. Hawke that Morris referred to is my aunt. She is sixty years old.”
    The words did not seem to register. I stared at him for a long time with eyes that did not seem to focus properly. My hands seemed to move of their own accord, fumbling with my purse and taking out the crumpled telegram she had sent me. I held it out, and at the same moment my legs seemed to give way.
    My face was buried among the folds of black silk. Strong arms supported me. I tried to raise my head, but it seemed to take far more effort than I could muster. The next thing I knew I was being guided into another room, the ironlike arms holding me, the wiry body forcing me to move. Derek Hawke led me to a sofa, forced me down to the cushions. When, moments later, I sat up, the mists evaporating from my brain, he was standing over me, a glass of brandy in his hand.
    â€œDrink this,” he ordered.
    â€œI never drink,” I said.
    â€œDrink it,” he commanded.
    I took the glass with trembling hand. I drank the fiery liquid. It burned fiercely, but it enabled me to see clearly. I put the glass down on the table beside the sofa and looked up at the man who hovered over me.
    â€œI never faint either,” I said, knowing how foolish it sounded.
    â€œThen that was quite an effective act, Miss Lane.”
    â€œIt wasn’t an act,” I replied.
    â€œYou’re sure? This whole thing seems to be one great act to me. I want to know what you think you’re up to?”
    â€œI think you’d better let me ask the questions, Mr. Hawke,” I said. My voice quivered, and it distressed me.
    I sat up straight and pulled my skirt over my knees. I was so weak I did not think I could manage to stand for a while yet. Derek Hawke was looking down at me with hooded lids, his arms folded across his chest. I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. It was no position from which to be grand, yet I managed to sound as though I were in full command of the situation when I spoke again.
    â€œWhat have you done with Delia?” I asked. My voice was hard, and it carried beautifully.
    â€œNothing at all.”
    â€œWhere is she?”
    â€œI have no idea.”
    â€œWhat have you done