extract: CHAPTER I THE ONE-EYED MAN The very beginning of this affair, which involved me, before I was aware of it, in as much villainy and wickedness as ever man heard of, was, of course, that spring evening, now ten years ago, whereon I looked out of my mother's front parlour window in the main street of Berwick-upon-Tweed and saw, standing right before the house, a man who had a black patch over his left eye, an old plaid thrown loosely round his shoulders, and in his right hand a stout stick and an old-fashioned carpet-bag. He caught sight of me as I caught sight of him, and he stirred,...

Extract: THE SCRAP OF GREY PAPER As a rule, Spargo left the Watchman office at two o'clock. The paper had then gone to press. There was nothing for him, recently promoted to a sub-editorship, to do after he had passed the column for which he was responsible; as a matter of fact he could have gone home before the machines began their clatter. But he generally hung about, trifling, until two o'clock came. On this occasion, the morning of the 22nd of June, 1912, he stopped longer than usual, chatting with Hacket, who had charge of the foreign news, and who began telling him about a telegram...

Resume A complicated tale of murder, hidden identities, and buried secrets in London's fashionable neighborhood of Bayswater. Bayswater is a quiet neighborhood whose residents are successful lawyers or medical men, people of independent means, or wealthy colonials returned to their homeland. It is hardly the place to expect a brutal murder and robbery, yet that is exactly what Richard Viner finds himself caught up in when he discovers the body of a neighbor on his nightly stroll, after having spent an evening reading a detective story to his aunt. He protests to his aunt that the events in...

There was nothing very awe-compelling about the person whom the caretaker thus greeted with so much punctilious ceremony. He was a little, somewhat insignificant-looking man-at first sight. His clothes were well-worn and carelessly put on; the collar of his under-coat projected high above that of his overcoat; his necktie had slipped round towards one ear; his linen was frayed; his felt hat, worn anyway, needed brushing; he wore cotton gloves, too big for him. He carried a mass of papers and books under one arm; the other hand grasped an umbrella which had grown green and grey in service. He...

INTRODUCTION. In the whole history of the English people there is no period so absolutely heroic, so full of enthralling interest, as that in which the might of England made itself apparent by land and sea-the period which saw good Queen Bess mistress of English hearts and Englishmen and sovereign of the great beginnings which have come to such a magnificent fruition under Victoria. That was indeed a golden time-an age of great venture and enterprise-a period wherein men's hearts were set on personal valor and bravery-the day of great deeds and of courage most marvelous. To write down a...

INTRODUCTION Everyone who has had the pleasure of Mr. Poskitt's acquaintance knows that that estimable Yorkshireman is not only the cheeriest of hosts, but the best of companions. Those of us who have known the Poskitt High Tea (a much more enjoyable meal than a late dinner) know what follows the consumption of Mrs. Poskitt's tender chickens and her home-fed hams. The parlour fire is stirred into a blaze; the hearth is swept clean; the curtains are drawn; the decanters, the cigars, and the quaint old leaden tobacco-box appear beneath the shaded lamp, and Mr. Poskitt bids his guests to cheer...

Of certain Events which happened at East Hardwick Manor House, August 27-28, 1642. At seven of the clock I turned away from the window, where, for a full hour, I had stood flattening my nose against the pane in a vain attempt to see something of interest in the dripping garden or the dank meadows outside. Sir Nicholas moved in his deep chair by the fire and then groaned, his old enemy catching him afresh and tweaking his great toe. Seeing that his pain had awakened him I went over and stood at his side. I saw the firelight glint on his frosted hair, and it woke in me some sleeping memory of a...