Betrayal at Blackcrest Read Online Free PDF Page B

with her?” I repeated.
    â€œMy dear young woman, I will tell you one more time. I have never seen this woman you refer to.”
    â€œYou have the telegram. Read it.”
    â€œI have already done so.”
    â€œAre you still going to tell me—”
    â€œI am going to tell you nothing,” he said.
    He strolled across the room and took a slender brown cigar out of a box that sat on the mantel. He rolled the cigar between his fingers before putting it in his mouth. He struck a match, cupping his hands over the flame and raising it to the cigar. Then he stood at the hearth, one arm resting along the mantel. His dark eyes watched me, and he seemed to be contemplating the best way to dispose of me. The butt of the cigar glowed as he pulled on it. He removed it and blew a cloud of smoke. His lids narrowed.
    â€œI must warn you that I’ve had plenty of experience with blackmailers,” he said. “A man in my position frequently has to deal with such people. The fact that you are young and attractive will not make me any more lenient if you persist in this charade.”
    â€œYou think I’ve come to blackmail you?”
    â€œWhat else should I think?”
    â€œI don’t know, Mr. Hawke.”
    I was calm now, in complete possession of myself. Derek Hawke was undoubtedly shrewd, but I could see through his accusations. He wanted to put me on the defensive. It would give him more time, and he needed time to formulate some story. I did not know what he had done with Delia, but I did know that he had not reckoned on my coming here like this and confronting him. It had taken him by surprise, and he was trying to cover up by attacking me before I could voice my own accusations.
    â€œDelia is not at Blackcrest?” I said.
    â€œCertainly not.”
    â€œShe has never been here?”
    He shook his head slowly.
    â€œI don’t believe you,” I said.
    â€œIf you searched the place, you would find no sign of her, nor any sign that she had ever been here.”
    He swept his arm out, as though bidding me to make such a search. It was an elegant gesture. There was nothing of the dandy about Derek Hawke, yet he was an aristocrat, hard, cruel, elegant in every respect. His voice, so harsh, so reminiscent of movie gangsters in smoke-filled dives, only emphasized this refined, steellike elegance. It was not simulated. He had the same natural quality that made the lion superior to other beasts, and it was real, an almost tangible part of him. He was born to dictate, to rule, and he would allow nothing to jeopardize this right.
    I knew I was up against something far too strong, but I was not going to give way. I intended to fight him, however impossible that might seem at the moment.
    â€œShe told me she met you in London,” I said.
    â€œThen she was lying.”
    â€œShe described you. She described this house.”
    â€œWith a little research, anyone could do that.”
    â€œThe telegram—”
    â€œIt’s real, no doubt, but it contains lies.”
    â€œI believe you’re the one who is lying.”
    â€œDo you, Miss Lane?”
    â€œI think the police would be interested in this, Mr. Hawke.”
    â€œI’m sure they would be. However, it might prove embarrassing for you.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI mean that I am not Bluebeard, nor do I run a white-slavery ring during my spare time. I’ve never seen this woman, nor has she ever been inside my home. I can prove that, and if you insist on continuing with this farce, I’m sure my lawyers can find some way of restraining you.”
    â€œYou can’t intimidate me,” I said.
    â€œNo?”
    â€œI’m not afraid of you—or your lawyers.”
    â€œYou don’t give up easily, do you, Miss Lane?”
    â€œNot at all,” I replied.
    â€œRest assured I was making no idle threat. The police would laugh at your story, and my lawyers would see to