Fiction Books

A Chance Shot Reddy and I were alone at the Lake beds. He sat outside the cabin, braiding a leather hat-band—eight strands, and the "repeat" figure—an art that I never could master. I sat inside, with a one-pound package of smoking tobacco beside me, and newspapers within reach, rolling the day's supply of cigarettes. Reddy stopped his story long enough to say: "Don't use... more...

r. Jeremy Garnet stood with his back to the empty grate—for the time was summer—watching with a jaundiced eye the removal of his breakfast things. "Mrs. Medley," he said. "Sir?" "Would it bore you if I became auto-biographical?" "Sir?" "Never mind. I merely wish to sketch for your benefit a portion of my life's history. At eleven o'clock last night I... more...

The Pets "Of all the worlds I ever broke into, this one's the most curious," said Red. "And one of the curiousest things in it is that I think it's queer. Why should I, now? What put it into our heads that affairs ought to go so and so and so, when they never do anything of the sort? Take any book you read, or any story a man tells you: it runs along about how Mr. Smith made up... more...

Chapter I: The Bertolini "The Signora had no business to do it," said Miss Bartlett, "no business at all. She promised us south rooms with a view close together, instead of which here are north rooms, looking into a courtyard, and a long way apart. Oh, Lucy!" "And a Cockney, besides!" said Lucy, who had been further saddened by the Signora's unexpected accent. "It might... more...

MAN'S PROPOSAL Susan Clegg had dwelt alone ever since her father's death. She had not been unhappy in dwelling alone, although she had been a good daughter as long as she had a parent to live with. When the parent departed, and indeed some few days before his going, there had arisen a kind of a question as to the possibility of a life-companion for the daughter who must inevitably be left... more...

If the management of the Hotel Guelph, that London landmark, could have been present at three o'clock one afternoon in early January in the sitting-room of the suite which they had assigned to Mrs Elmer Ford, late of New York, they might well have felt a little aggrieved. Philosophers among them would possibly have meditated on the limitations of human effort; for they had done their best for Mrs... more...

1. Freddie Rooke gazed coldly at the breakfast-table. Through a gleaming eye-glass he inspected the revolting object which Parker, his faithful man, had placed on a plate before him. "Parker!" His voice had a ring of pain. "Sir?" "What's this?" "Poached egg, sir." Freddie averted his eyes with a silent shudder. "It looks just like an old aunt of mine," he... more...

The Manner in Which Mr. Edward Middleton Encounters the Emir Achmed Ben Daoud. It was a lowering and gloomy night in the early part of the present century. Mr. Edward Middleton, a gallant youth, who had but lately passed his twenty-third year, was faring northward along the southern part of that famous avenue of commerce, Clark Street, in the city of Chicago, wending his way toward the emporium of Mr.... more...

CHAPTER I "A gentleman called to see you when you were out last night, sir," said Mrs. Medley, my landlady, removing the last of the breakfast things. "Yes?" I said, in my affable way. "A gentleman," said Mrs. Medley meditatively, "with a very powerful voice." "Caruso?" "Sir?" "I said, did he leave a name?" "Yes, sir. Mr. Ukridge."... more...

-1- "Jeeves," I said, "may I speak frankly?" "Certainly, sir." "What I have to say may wound you." "Not at all, sir." "Well, then——" No—wait. Hold the line a minute. I've gone off the rails. I don't know if you have had the same experience, but the snag I always come up against when I'm telling a story is this dashed difficult problem... more...