“The voice had a Welsh lilt to it. 'No, sir,' he said. 'Perhaps you knew my father. My name is Christopher Hilton.' 'Tony Hilton's boy?' 'His grandson, sir.' 'Then you're a rascal, by Christ. I've known no greater scoundrel than Tony Hilton, and I'm no stranger to villainy.' Kit felt his cheeks burn. But mainly with anger. His name, and Susan's memory, were his only worthwhile possessions. 'You'll acknowledge he was also a man of courage and ability, sir.' 'What, Tony Hilton?' 'Or must I m...ake you,' Kit shouted, his hand dropping to his sword hilt. 'Draw on your betters, would you?' Modyford cried. 'Kit, be careful,' Jean begged. But the big man laughed. 'Tony Hilton's grandson, by Christ. You've the manner more than the appearance. When first I came to these accursed islands I sailed with Tony Hilton. Aye, he had courage, and ability, and he was my friend. As will you be. Give me your hand, boy. My name is Henry Morgan.' Kit had his fingers crushed. 'Christopher Hilton.' Modyford was frowning.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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