Mystery & Detective Books

CHAPTER ONE "You've got to get him, boys—get him or bust!" said a tired police chief, pounding a heavy fist on a table. The detectives he bellowed the words at looked at the floor. They had done their best and failed. Failure meant "resignation" for the police chief, return to the hated work of pounding the pavements for them—they knew it, and, knowing it, could summon no... more...

I "John!" "Yeh!" "Don't say 'yeh,' say 'yes,' Dorothy dear." "Yes, Dorothy de——" Sir John Dene was interrupted in his apology by a napkin-ring whizzing past his left ear. "What's wrong?" he enquired, laying aside his paper and picking up the napkin-ring. "I'm trying to attract your attention," replied Lady Dene,... more...

A high and narrow gate of carefully joined boards, standing ajar in a fence of the same construction! What is there in this to rouse a whole neighbourhood and collect before it a group of eager, anxious, hesitating people? I will tell you. This fence is no ordinary fence, and this gate no ordinary gate; nor is the fact of the latter standing a trifle open, one to be lightly regarded or taken an... more...

CHAPTER I According to an entry in my book of engagements, I left London for Ravensdene Court on March 8th, 1912. Until about a fortnight earlier I had never heard of the place, but there was nothing remarkable in my ignorance of it, seeing that it stands on a remote part of the Northumbrian coast, and at least three hundred miles from my usual haunts. But then, towards the end of February, I received... more...

It was in the spring when I at last found time from the hospital work to visit my friend, the old folk-lorist, in his country isolation, and I rather chuckled to myself, because in my bag I was taking down a book that utterly refuted all his tiresome pet theories of magic and the powers of the soul. These theories were many and various, and had often troubled me. In the first place, I scorned them for... more...

WAS it a specter? For days I could not answer this question. I am no believer in spiritual manifestations, yet—But let me tell my story. I was lodging with my wife on the first floor of a house in Twenty-seventh street. I had taken the apartments for three months, and we had already lived in them two and found them sufficiently comfortable. The back room we used as a bedroom, and while it... more...

CHAPTER I. DESPAIR AND INTEREST They stood upon the roof of a London boarding-house in the neighborhood of Russell Square—one of those grim shelters, the refuge of Transatlantic curiosity and British penury. The girl—she represented the former race was leaning against the frail palisading, with gloomy expression and eyes set as though in fixed contemplation of the uninspiring panorama. The young... more...

CHAPTER I. THE SAME OLD INCIDENT OF A MISSING BEAUTY—A WIDOW'S NARRATIVE—AN AROUSED INTEREST—THE POSSIBILITIES IN A NAME—STARTLING SUGGESTIONS—WAS IT A CLUE. "Mr. Alvarez, I am very poor; I cannot offer you a large reward, but I have saved a few hundred dollars, and those I will give you if you are successful in finding my lost child." Jack Alvarez, the detective, was seated in... more...

CHAPTER I. TWO SKILLFUL YOUNG DETECTIVES OVERMATCH A BRACE OF VILLAINS AND PROVE WHAT NERVE AND COURAGE CAN DO. "Let's duck him and steal the girl." A young lady and gentleman were walking on the sands at Coney Island beach. The lady was very handsomely attired, and by her side walked a young man, a perfect type in appearance of an effeminate dude. Three rough-looking men had been... more...

The Gentleman's Visiting-Card The card that had been thrust into my hand had pencilled upon it, "Call at 4020 Madison Avenue at a quarter before eight this evening." Below, in copper-plate, was engraved the name, Mr. Esper Indiman. It was one of those abnormally springlike days that New York sometimes experiences at the latter end of March, days when negligee shirts and last summer's... more...