Chapter 19
The ceiling irons,” a harsh voice growled. Duncan’s hearing was as blurred as his vision. He struggled to keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. “Dangle ’em from the arms for a few hours and they whimper like babes.”
“The major said he must keep his wits fer now,” came a gruff reply. “It’s his way. First he tortures ’em with words, then the messy stuff follows.”
“There’s King Hank’s old rack down the end of the hall,” the first man put in. “A little stretch might clear his wits fine.”
“Which I wager ain’t been used since the last century. Probably fall apart when we start the winding. And the earl says he wants to build a new one using that as a model, so we can’t be breaking it.”
“Worth a try, I’m just saying,” came the disappointed reply.
Duncan finall
