“Actually, you’re not going anywhere.”
Hammerton spun around, mouth agape.
“Sebastian!” cried Alex as she shot up from the chair.
Branford stepped into the room, pistol aimed squarely at Hammerton’s chest. “Are you all right, my love,” he asked, never taking his eyes from her captor.
“Y … yes,” stammered Alex. “But how did you ever?—”
“Your father’s letter.” Branford smiled. “I finally gave it the attention that I should have when you first asked me to look at it. If I only had—well, I’m damnably sorry. I could have prevented this.”
“Youare sorry!” exclaimed Alex. “I …” She suddenly noticed the ugly red splotch seeping through the fabric of his disheveled shirt. “Ye heavens, you’re hurt!”
Instinctively she moved towards him.
“Alex—no!” But it was too late.
For a brief second, she had come between Hammerton and Branford’s pistol—and it had been all the time the dastard needed. He grabbed her around the neck and yanked her up against his body to shield him from any further threat. In thenext instant, he whipped out a knife from his pocket and pressed it up against the side of her throat.
“Put the gun down on the table,” he shouted.
Branford hesitated.
“Don’t, Sebastian,” said Alex. “You know he’ll only kill us both. Put a bullet in the monster.”
“Shut up, you bitch.” He shook her roughly, causing Branford to take an involuntary step towards him.
“Stop—put the pistol down!” cried Hammerton. “I swear, I’ll cut her throat if you don’t by the time I count to three—and I shall enjoy every second of it.”
The wild look on his face made it clear the threat was not an idle one.
“One!”
Branford’s eyes narrowed, the only sign of emotion on his face as he took note of the darkening bruise on Alex’s cheek.
“Two!”
“You’ve just signed your own death warrant, Hammerton,” he said softly as he lowered the weapon and set it skidding halfway down the table.
It was still out of Hammerton’s reach. Even so, he relaxed his hold on Alex, letting the knife fall slightly away from her skin.
“Ha! You see, Iamsmarter than all of you,” he crowed. “I’ve beaten you, Branford! I’ve beaten you in the battle of wits ,and now I’m going to shoot you down like the dog you are.”
“Is that so?” inquired Branford.
Alex noted that he seemed to want to keep Hammerton talking.
“Why exactly do you hate me?”
As he spoke, Branford inched closer..
Caught up in his ranting, Hammerton didn’t notice. “Everyone thinks you are the clever one for having saved Wellington. Any idiot can appear a hero in war. You’re notclever, merely lucky.” He sucked in a a breath. “I’mthe clever one. And you—you’re nothing but a murderer!”
“That’s rather like the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you say?” said Branford dryly. He inched another step closer.
“Oh, that.” Hammerton smirked. “Was I supposed to let an eccentric old man take away what I had worked for all my life?” He slanted a quick glance at Alex. “It seems the old codger did manage to warn you? I don’t see how—I climbed down to the wreck and checked his pockets and belongings quite thoroughly. And I inquired at every possible place he could have posted a letter.”
“Not thoroughly enough, it seems,” said Branford, saving Alex from having to answer her tormentor. “He left a letter of warning in one of his books.”
