Hurricane by L. Ron Hubbard Read Free Book Online Page A

march up into the great banquet hall which occupied most of the ground floor.
    The hall was of Brobdingnagian proportions. Its ceiling was thirty feet high, cut in Gothic arches, dull with cobwebs and grime. It was paved with flat, worn stones on which many huge chairs were placed. The table in the center of the room was fifty feet long and twenty wide. The wrought-iron chandelier hung low and sent men’s shadows flickering along the sides, making their heads as big as barrels.
    Perry and Felice Bereau stood thunderstruck, staring about them at the tattered tapestries and the moldy leather chairs. Peg Mannering stood very near Spar.
    Folston shed his slicker and idly tossed it to one of the unshaven brutes who stood near and then, after looking slowly about him, smiled. “So you like my little hut, eh? Perhaps that is best, because I am certain you will be here for a long, long time. Do not mind my playmates. They aren’t apt to be rough unless you are. On good behavior, the castle is yours. Plenty of room for all. And the doors, Chacktar. The doors.”
    Chacktar bolted the entrance and chained it shut. He locked it with a brass key weighing several pounds and brought it to Folston.
    “Ah, yes, you aren’t apt to escape here. All except our good captain may roam at large. And as he is so used to bars, I am certain that he would feel lonesome unless he had only bars to look upon.”
    The scream they had heard before came up to them again and Folston frowned. “Who is that?”
    A big-chested, hairy-faced man came forward. “Ricardo, Excellency. He has been protesting since we applied the hot iron at your order. It seems he does not like it without his eyes.” The man grinned.
    “An ungodly racket, Enrico. Besides, we have no need of his money now.” Folston waved his hand lightly toward the door and Enrico went out.
    They heard his footsteps recede in the empty corridor. The scream came louder and then, suddenly, was cut off short. Enrico reappeared a moment later, wiping his knife upon his sash.
    “Very good,” said Folston. “A poor merchant. Only worth a few thousand at best. No use playing with him. As I was saying, my guests, the castle is yours. Chacktar, show these good people to their rooms.”
    Chacktar thrust Perry and Felice Bereau before him and disappeared. Peg Mannering still stood beside Spar.
    “And you, Miss Mannering,” said Folston, “might like the tower room. A very airy place, quite well appointed.”
    Peg Mannering dashed the platinum hair out of her blue eyes and glared, chin up, nostrils quivering. “What are you going to do with Captain Spar?”
    “Oh, nothing so bad. I might have a use for him again.”
    “Set him free,” demanded Peg.
    Folston smiled. “And if I do?”
    “I might again look upon you as a decent man.”
    “Ah,” said Folston. “Enrico, cut Spar’s rope there. And watch the man well. Handle him gently and do not shoot to kill. It is too quick. I am not overly fond of the captain, but, as I said, I have a use for him, you see.”
    Folston conducted Peg Mannering up a winding flight of steps. Spar, seeing that no one detained him, followed. They were ascending up the tower Folston had mentioned and came at last to a small door which stood open.
    The room was neatly furnished, rather overawed by a monstrous canopied bed. The wind moaned through the arched windows and went sighing down the steps.
    Spar said, “What’s the idea of this, Folston?”
    Folston turned, smiling. “Try nothing, my captain. Behind you stands Enrico, who is not to shoot to kill. We have no doctor here, you see.”
    Enrico smiled amiably, gun in hand.
    “Rather witless, isn’t it?” said Spar. “You can’t get away with anything like this, you know.”
    “No? My dear captain, a man who is wise enough can get away with anything in this world.”
    The door to the room slammed. A bolt grated. Folston whirled and then glared at Spar.
    Spar grinned. “With anything, my dear count!” he