George Barr Mccutcheon eBooks
eBooks di George Barr Mccutcheon editi da Pubme di Formato Mobipocket
Black is white. E-book. Formato Mobipocket George Barr Mccutcheon - Pubme, 2017 -
The two old men sat in the library, eyeing the blue envelope that lay on the end of the long table nearest the fireplace, where a merry but unnoticed blaze crackled in the vain effort to cry down the shrieks of the bleak December wind that whistled about the corners of the house.Someone had come into the room—they did not know who nor when—to poke up the fire and to throw fresh coals into the grate. No doubt it was the parlourmaid. She was always doing something of the sort. It seemed to be her duty. Or, it might have been the housekeeper, in case the parlourmaid was out for the evening. Whoever it was, she certainly had poked up the fire, and in doing so had been compelled to push two pairs of feet out of the way to avoid trampling upon them.
Cowardice Court. E-book. Formato Mobipocket George Barr Mccutcheon - Pubme, 2017 -
He’s just an infernal dude, your lordship, and I ‘ll throw him in the river if he says a word too much.” “He has already said too much, Tompkins, confound him, don’t you know.” “Then I ‘m to throw him in whether he says anything or not, sir?” “Have you seen him?” “No, your lordship, but James has. James says he wears a red coat and—” “Never mind, Tompkins. He has no right to fish on this side of that log. The insufferable ass may own the land on the opposite side, but, confound his impertinence, I own it on this side.” This concluding assertion of the usually placid but now irate Lord Bazelhurst was not quite as momentous as it sounded. As a matter of fact, the title to the land was vested entirely in his young American wife; his sole possession, according to report, being a title much less substantial but a great deal more picturesque than the large, much-handled piece of paper down in the safety deposit vault—lying close and crumpled among a million sordid, homely little slips called coupons. It requires no great stretch of imagination to understand that Lord Bazelhurst had an undesirable neighbour. That neighbour was young Mr. Shaw—Randolph Shaw, heir to the Randolph fortune. It may be fair to state that Mr. Shaw also considered himself to be possessed of an odious neighbour. In other words, although neither had seen the other, there was a feud between the owners of the two estates that had all the earmarks of an ancient romance.
Shot With Crimson . E-book. Formato Mobipocket George Barr Mccutcheon - Pubme, 2017 -
FOR thirty seconds no one moved. An odd sort of paralysis seemed to have gripped every one in the room,—paralysis of the mind as well as of the body. Then puzzled, wondering looks were exchanged. A man sitting near the fireplace glanced sharply, apprehensively at the huge beams in the ceiling and muttered: “What was it! Sounded as though something had smashed in the roof. There’s a tremendous wind. It may have got that big tree at the corner of the locker room.” “It couldn’t have been thunder,—not at this time of the year,” said one of the women, sending a nervous, frightened look at her husband who sprawled ungracefully in a big Morris chair at the end of a table littered with newspapers and magazines. “‘Gad, did you feel the house rock?” exclaimed he, sitting up suddenly, his eyes narrowing as with pain. “Like an earthquake. “It couldn’t have been an earthquake,” interrupted his wife, starting up from her chair. “Why couldn’t it?” he demanded crossly, and then glanced around at the other occupants of the room,—ten or a dozen men and women seated in a wide semi-circle in front of the huge logs blazing in the fireplace. “What do you think it was, Zimmie?”