Practice to Deceive Read Online Free PDF Page B

it! Chandler? Blast the fellow, I believe he’s gone off again! Chandler? Do you hear me? Have some sense, man! Your cause is lost and has no need of the treasure now. What can be more important than your own life? Speak up! Tell us! Where is it hid?”
    Chandler roused slightly and panted, “Go to … hell!”
    With a cry of frustration, Beasley shook the prisoner savagely, then uttered an aggrieved wail as Chandler sagged, lax in that merciless grip. “The fellow means to die!” Beasley complained. “Damn his eyes, he means to die, Joseph!”
    â€œTush! No man dies for an ideal, save in epic poems!” But Delavale bent lower, peering anxiously. “Do you know what I think, my Thomas? We have sadly neglected our guest. He does look poorly.… Ah, that amuses you, does it, Chandler? I have only your good in mind, and I cannot but think your wound should be seared, lest it become infected.…” He glanced up at his friend, grinning slyly.
    A trace of consternation came into Beasley’s face. He drew back and began to pluck uneasily at his lower lip as Delavale tapped the ash from the end of his cigar and bent forward to rip aside the fabric of Chandler’s shirt-sleeve.
    The sight awoke Penelope at last from the trancelike state she had fallen into. With a shriek of horror, she ran into the room. “Stop! Oh—please do not!”
    Delavale jerked back with a yowl of fright. White and appalled, Beasley cried shrilly, “Blast and damn the chit! We are undone!”
    Chandler struggled on to one elbow, turning to Penelope so that for the first time she saw him fully. The haggard countenance was scarcely recognizable, the cheeks so sunken, the fine mouth white and twisted. But even frantic with pain, the eyes were unmistakable and into their green depths came recognition. One hand stretched out to her in a mute pleading. Then, awareness faded, the heavy eyelids closed, and he slumped down to sprawl forward over the edge of the sofa.
    All but pouncing at his niece, Delavale raged, “ What in the devil—? Miserable girl! How dare you intrude here?”
    â€œShe will betray us!” howled Beasley. “I told you it was too chancy! Damn you, Joseph! I told you!”
    â€œMy God!” Penelope sobbed, utterly distraught. “Oh, my dear … God! What—monstrous cruelty is this?”
    His face murderous, the hard little brown eyes narrowed and threatening in the flabby face, Delavale snapped, “Nothing that would trouble a patriotic conscience, girl. Is a Jacobite dog not worth the hanging and will end with his head on a spike on Tower Bridge when the military get their hands on him!”
    Penelope’s horrified gaze was still fastened upon the unconscious man, and she scarcely heard the callous words. “How can you hurt him so?” she gulped, wringing her hands in anguish. “Do you not know he is a dear friend of my father, and that we were guests in his home? How—” And she shrank back with a shocked cry as her uncle’s hand cracked across her cheek.
    â€œAfter all that my loved wife and I have endured because of your ungrateful behaviour! After all our forbearance, you have the gall to stand there and name a traitorous rebel a friend to any member of this family? Do you know what would happen if we were suspected of Jacobite sympathies?”
    â€œOr—if you were discovered to be concealing a fugitive…?”
    The mocking voice came from behind Penelope. Faint with horror, she turned quickly, her repugnance of the tall young rake who stood there forgotten in the nightmare of this development. “Stop them,” she begged, tears beading on her lashes. “In the name of heaven—I beg of you! Stop them!”
    Otton took her by the arms, smiling down into her distressed face. “Now here’s a happy improvement. It would be worth much to me to win favour in your lovely eyes,