"Feedback" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maclean Katherine)

“Are you associated with other seditioners in any way?”

“I know other people of my own opinion. I wouldn’t call them seditioners though.”

“Are you directed by any subversive or disloyal organization?”

“I hold a great deal of love and loyalty for the people of the United States,” he answered steadily. “But right now I think you people here are being extremely childish. You—” He was struck across the mouth.

“Answer the question!”

“I am a member of no subversive or disloyal organization.”

“Will you give the names of those associated with you in subversion?”

The end of the rope was slung again, and passed over the limb this time, coming suddenly writhing down to be captured dexterously by the man holding the other end. The hangman did not seem to be listening to the questions, or care what the answers would be.

“I will not. I’m sorry but it’s impossible.”

Gifford nudged Bruce. “He’s sorry! He doesn’t know how sorry he can get. He’ll change his mind in a hurry.”



Up on the platform the judges conferred ceremonially and Dunner waited, standing abnormally still. The finished noose was released, and swung down and past his face in a slow arc. In the crowd the man with the corkscrew waved it again, grinning. There was laughter.

The teacher’s face was suddenly shiny with sweat.

The men who were the judges turned from their conferring.

“Our finding is treason. However, confess, throw yourself on the mercy of the court, give the names of your fellow traitors and we will extend clemency.”

The disheveled tall man looked from one face to another for a time of silence. “Do you have to go through with this?” The voice barely reached the crowd. The judges said nothing. His eyes searched their faces.

“I have committed no crimes. I refuse to tell any names.” His voice was clear and carrying, a teacher’s voice, but he was terrified, they could see.

“The prisoner is remanded for questioning.”

One of the judges made an imperious gesture and the teacher was seized roughly on either side by two guards, and his jacket and shirt stripped off roughly and cut free from the bound arms. As the slashed clothing was tossed to one side, the crowd chuckled at the effective brutality of the gesture, and at the reaction of the teacher.

“A good vicious touch,” Bruce grinned. “He’s impressed.”

“Scared,” Gifford laughed. “We’ll have him talking like a dictaphone. Watch what’s next.”

Something small was handed up onto the platform. Walt Wilson, who had volunteered for the questioning, held it up for all to see. It was a card of thumbtacks.

The teacher was shoved against the trunk of the oak and secured to it rapidly. The rope was looped around his elbows, and his ankles fastened together with another loop. He faced the crowd upright, helpless and unable to struggle, with the harsh bright light of the lantern shining in his face and the noose dangling where he could see it.

“Scared green,” commented somebody near Bruce. “He’ll tell us.”

Walt Wilson stood waiting to one side until all was quiet, then he extracted a tack and leaned forward with it pointed at the bare, bony chest.