The moonbeams came through two deep and narrow windows, and showed a spacious chamber, richly furnished in an antique fashion. From one lattice, the shadow of the diamond panes was thrown upon the floor; the ghostly light, through the other, slept upon a bed, falling between the heavy silken curtains, and illuminating the face of a young man. But, how quietly the slumberer lay! how pale his features!... more...

I 1 Countess Gisela Niebuhr sat in the long dusk of Munich staring over at the beautiful park that in happier days had been famous in the world as the Englischer Garten, and deliberately recalled on what might be the last night of her life the successive causes that had led to her profound dissatisfaction with her country as a woman. She was so thoroughly disgusted with it as a German that personal... more...

I. NIGHT IN THE UNDERWORLD It was like some shadowy pantomime: The dark mouth of an alleyway thrown into murky relief by the rays of a distant street lamp...the swift, forward leap of a skulking figure...a girl's form swaying and struggling in the man's embrace. Then, a pantomime no longer, there came a half threatening, half triumphant oath; and then the girl's voice, quiet, strangely... more...

Once upon a time a lion dropped his paw upon a mouse. “Please let me live!” begged the mouse, “and some day I will do as much for you.” “That is so funny,” roared the king of beasts, “that we will release you. We had no idea mice had a sense of humor.” And then, as you remember, the lion was caught in the net of the hunter, and struggled, and fought, and struck blindly, until his spirit... more...

CHAPTER I The White Linen Nurse was so tired that her noble expression ached. Incidentally her head ached and her shoulders ached and her lungs ached and the ankle-bones of both feet ached quite excruciatingly. But nothing of her felt permanently incapacitated except her noble expression. Like a strip of lip-colored lead suspended from her poor little nose by two tugging wire-gray wrinkles her... more...

CHAPTER I. IS MAINLY MYSTERIOUS. “A woman—perhaps?” “Who knows! Poor Dick Harborne was certainly a man of secrets, and of many adventures.” “Well, it certainly is a most mysterious affair. You, my dear Barclay, appear to be the last person to have spoken to him.” “Apparently I was,” replied Lieutenant Noel Barclay, of the Naval Flying Corps, a tall, slim, good-looking, clean-shaven... more...

Preface. On the crowded canvas of the fourteenth century stands out as one of its most prominent figures that of the warrior Countess of Montfort. No reader of Froissart’s Chronicle can forget the siege of Hennebon, and the valiant part she played in the defence of her son’s dominions. Actuated by more personal motives than the peasant maid, she was nevertheless the Joan of Arc of her day, and of... more...

CHAPTER I THE SUBTERRANEAN WAY The slanting rays of afternoon sunshine, pouring through stone arches, lay in broad, golden bands, upon the flags of the Convent cloister. The old lay-sister, Mary Antony, stepped from the cool shade of the cell passage and, blinking at the sunshine, shuffled slowly to her appointed post at the top of the crypt steps, up which would shortly pass the silent procession of... more...

CHAPTER I A White Shape in the Moonlight THE colored boy gazed at Don and me with a look of terror. “But I tell you I seen it!” he insisted. “An’ it’s down there now. A ghost! It’s all white an’ shinin’!” “Nonsense, Willie,” Don turned to me. “I say, Bob, what do you make of this?” “I seen it, I tell you,” the boy broke in. “It ain’t a mile from here if you want to go... more...

Prologue. A weight had fallen from him—the weight of a lifetime; the galling, hopeless, demoralising weight which had paralysed his energies, sterilised his brain, and, in the case of a subject less clear-sighted, would have brought him down to drink or suicide, possibly both. And now it had fallen from him. The man on the mountain top looked around, and as he did so, something of buoyancy that he... more...