The Prisoner Read Online Free PDF Page B

same.
    â€œHello!”
    â€œHello!”
    â€œHello!”
    Genevieve stared in horror at Jack, her mind reeling. It was suddenly appallingly clear what the lad had wanted with Warder Sims’s keys. Jack sauntered over to the window and took a cursory glance at Haydon. Then he looked at her.
    â€œI didn’t think he would come here.” He shrugged.
    â€œYou know him?” exclaimed Simon, studying Jack with awe.
    â€œIs he a prince?” asked Annabelle excitedly.
    Jack snorted. “Hardly. He’s a—”
    â€œHe’s leaving!” interrupted Grace, diverting everyone’s attention back to Haydon.
    â€œOh my,” murmured Charlotte in a soft, sympathetic voice, “he can hardly walk.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with him?” wondered Jamie, concerned.
    â€œHe was badly beaten by the prison warder for tryin’ to help me.” Jack stared at Genevieve, his expression challenging.
    â€œWe have to stop him!” said Simon. “Come on!”
    â€œWait!” cried Genevieve as the children stampeded for the door.
    Reluctantly, they stopped and regarded her with impatience.
    â€œI’m not sure this is a good idea,” she ventured, trying to grasp a moment to think.
    â€œWe are going to help him, aren’t we?” asked Charlotte.
    â€œOf course we are,” Jamie assured her. “Genevieve always helps people.”
    â€œAnd if he helped Jack, then we should help him,” reasoned Grace.
    â€œWe must stop him now,” declared Annabelle, wringing her hands dramatically, “before he disappears forever!”
    Genevieve looked helplessly at Jack.
    He regarded her with cold contempt, as if her hesitation was no more than what he expected of her.
    And then he turned and marched toward the stairs.
    The children needed no further encouragement. They raced after him, flying down the staircase with their pale cotton nightgowns billowing around them like wings.
    â€œStay back!” barked Oliver, bursting suddenly from the kitchen wielding an ax in his wizened, trembling arms. “There’s an unsavory rascal out there and I’m going to chop him into wee bits and have Eunice grind him into haggis!”
    â€œNow, Ollie, ye should know better than to be scarin’ the bairns with such talk,” chided Doreen, the plentiful lines of her plain, thin face crinkled with disapproval. “However am I to get them to eat their food when ye’re constantly fillin’ their wee heads with such blather?”
    â€œI’m of no mind to make haggis out of some poor, half-starved wretch,” added Eunice, squeezing her bounteous form into the crowded hallway. “He’s bound to be all string and gristle.”
    â€œOh, Oliver, you mustn’t kill him,” pleaded Charlotte earnestly. “He’s hurt!”
    â€œAnd he’s Jack’s friend,” Grace added.
    â€œWe’re going to invite him in,” explained Annabelle.
    â€œThen could we have some tea?” asked Simon hopefully. “I’m starving.”
    â€œAt this hour?” Eunice regarded Genevieve with dismay. “But we’re scarcely fit to receive company, Miss Genevieve—we’re all in our nightclothes!”
    â€œHe won’t mind,” Charlotte assured her.
    â€œHe’s from prison!” chirped Jamie, as if this were a marvelous endorsement.
    Jack threw the front door open. The children surged forward, only to find Haydon’s figure slowly retreating down the street.
    â€œHello there!” Simon shouted.
    â€œCome back!” cried Charlotte.
    â€œWe won’t let Oliver chop you up for haggis!” Annabelle promised.
    Realizing that Haydon might not find that particularly reassuring, Jack sprinted into the frigid darkness in his bare feet, catching up to Haydon just before he disappeared around the corner.
    â€œIt’s all right,” Jack told him. “You can come