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Eyes narrowing, he gouged Philo with a stare that made his stomach physically tighten.
“You told me you were friendly to the king. That you were pleased we used the foundry for these very purposes. And we find this in your pocket?”
Philo licked his lips and adjusted his weight over his feet. By God’s help alone he’d been able to snatch the note from Joseph’s pocket and secure it in his own without detection. And the ruse of anger had worked so well, it seemed to be believed by everyone. But there was more to feed them, and he feared perhaps they would not bite.
If only God would show mercy in this time of his humility. That He would show His hand and rescue Hannah from Philo’s sins that had brought them all here.
“Well?” Stockton snarled.
Philo straightened. “I have been watching the house since your arrival and secretly intercepting all messages leaving the house.”
“Impossible.” An almost imperceptible slant tilted Stockton’s head. “I have not seen you. Neither has anyone else.” He swiveled his head to Hannah. “Was he making you give him my notes—”
“No!” Philo’s panic clawed. His well-meant but senseless attempt at persuasion could have her taken as well. Lord, help me. “She knew nothing of this. I…” ’Twas clear the man was more confused than convinced, and Philo poured a heavier dose of truth atop the rest of his fabrication. “I wanted Joseph away from Hannah, and when I learned they were both at the house, I knew I needed to keep an eye on things—not only to relay messages to Washington but hopefully to keep them apart. And so, this evening when I saw them together, I knew…” Such falsehoods scraped bloody paths on their way to his lips. If only he would have a chance to tell Hannah how sorry he was. To dissect the real regrets from the lies he used to protect her. After a tight breath, he finished. “I knew that if I could make you believe that Joseph was the one with the missive, I might be able to escape…but, as you see, I have not had such a luxury.”
The following silence and dissatisfied grins on the faces of the men he’d hoped to convert razed the remaining pillars of his confidence. He swung another look to Hannah, whose ashen expression squeezed every unspoken pain from his heart.
He’d not wished to hurt her yet again. Had he known…Philo slammed his eyes shut. Nay, if he had known, then his rage might have been even more ferocious. His only hope remained in this feeble effort to atone for all the grief she’d suffered at his hand.
But that effort seemed doomed to fail.
Unless…
“Let them go.” His spirit breathed to life as the passion for his daughter’s freedom consumed. “I am ready to tell you what I know and would gladly give my life for the cause—if only you will give me your word that Hannah and Joseph may go free.”
“Father!” Hannah gripped the arm of the soldier at her side. She threw a weeping glance to Joseph, whose fallen expression was frozen with shock.
“You’ve been blatantly vocal in your ill favor and disdain for Joseph.” Stockton crossed his arms. “I find it puzzling that you would not wish your daughter free of him.”
Philo pitched his eyes toward Joseph. “I refuse to allow an innocent man to suffer despite my eternal dislike of him.”
A hard, staccato laugh jumped from Stockton’s throat as he looked to the other soldiers in the room. He moved back and faced Philo, eyes black. “You are willing to be treasonous yourself, wishing no harm to come to a man you claim is innocent, but whom you hate.” Again he laughed. “You Patriots are dichotomous.”
Philo’s very limbs numbed as the pronouncement of their fates hung like a sword above their necks. Philo could only hope that his was the neck that would be stretched and not theirs. Lord, please not theirs.
“Lieutenant, take this man and oversee the construction of a gallows.”
Greene nodded as Stockton continued his commands. “Captain Higley, I give you charge of these two until dawn, at which time Reverend Young will be hanged for treason.”
“No!”
Hannah’s cry split the air, and she sank to her knees, her sobbing spilling through the room. Higley crouched to help her up as Joseph launched forward, clearly aching to be at her side. Somehow ’twas only the two of them that Philo could think upon, not the quivering fear of a rope about his throat. Nay. ’Twas the hope of their freedom and future that filled his soul like a pool heaving beyond its bounds. They must have what he had denied them. At any cost.
Once Higley helped Hannah to her feet, Stockton shoved the note at Higley’s chest, his voice clinging to calm. “Keep this as well.” Stepping back, he rolled his shoulders straight.
The young Redcoat almost grinned. Philo’s heart split open and cried out to heaven. Lord, let my death be the end of their sorrows. Bless my sacrifice for their gain, Lord. I pray thee.
Stockton flicked his wrist at Joseph, commanding in a single gesture that Joseph march toward the door.
Hannah shook her head violently, craning her neck to see past Higley as he ushered her outside. “Father! No, Father, please! You cannot die!”
Joseph stopped at the door, shoving Stockton with the hate in his eyes. “Untie me so I may assist her.”
Wrath plumed from Stockton’s flaming eyes, the fetor of confused animosity as strong as the man’s breath. With a quiet grunt he reached to his side and unsheathed the dagger and, with a swift swipe, cut Joseph’s wrists free.
Pivoting back, Joseph’s expression was hard at the edges and addled in the center. His jaw worked for a moment before he turned and hurried out the door.
From his place by the doorway, Stockton rested all his fierce attention on Philo. “Someone must be made to show what will happen to those who go against the king. And you, Reverend, it seems will be the one to help me make such an exhibition.”
