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• The Agony Column     by Earl Derr Biggers
  London that historic summer was almost unbearably hot. It seems, looking back, as though the big baking city in those days was meant to serve as an anteroom of torture - an inadequate bit of preparation for the hell that was soon to break in the guise of the Great War.

• The Man Who Was Thursday     by G. K. Chesterton
  It was not by any means the only evening of which he was the hero. On many nights those passing by his little back garden might hear his high, didactic voice laying down the law to men and particularly to women.

• The utterance of God is a lamp, whose light are these words: Ye are the fruits of one tree, and the leaves of one branch. Deal ye one with another with the utmost love and harmony, with friendliness and fellowship. He Who is the Day-Star of Truth beareth Me witness! So powerful is the light of unity that it can illuminate the whole earth. The One true God, He Who knoweth all things, Himself testifieth to the truth of these words.
  
  Baha'u'llah: Epistle to the Son of the Wolf, Page: 14

• The Club of Queer Trades     by G.K.Chesterton
  There is something entirely Gargantuan in the idea of economising space by piling houses on top of each other, front doors and all. And in the chaos and complexity of those perpendicular streets anything may dwell or happen, and it is in one of them, I believe, that the inquirer may find the offices of the Club of Queer Trades.

• Steadfast Falters     by E. Mandevill Rogers
  His capture of the richest stake of the year was taken almost as a foregone conclusion, and a great crowd had turned out to see the race and to bring home its share of the proceeds

• Riddle of the Sands     edited by Erskine Childers
  But events were driving them to reconsider their decision. These seemed to show that the information wrung with such peril and labour from the German Government, and transmitted so promptly to our own, had had none but the most transitory influence on our policy.

• Red Harvest     by Newman Flower
  four men were sitting at a small table in the Toledo Restaurant. Everyone knows the Toledo. That night it was crowded. The room is small and so severely plain that it almost jars the appetite

• The Outdoor Girls at Rainbow Lake     by Laura Lee Hope
  The kind of talking I'm going to do now calls for action--'business,' as the stage people call it," explained Betty. "I want to walk around and swing my arms. Besides, I can't properly do justice to the subject sitting down.

• The Outdoor Girls at Wild Rose Lodge     by Laura Lee Hope
  It's all right for you to talk about patience, Amy," retorted Mollie, throttling her engine and sliding at breakneck speed down a long hill without the thought of using a brake. A brake to Mollie meant something to be used at the last minute when she couldn't think of anything else to do. "You're an angel, but I'm not--"

• Okewood of the Secret Service     by Valentine Williams
  But only professionally did Mr. Mackwayte thus blow his own trumpet, and then in print alone. For the rest, he had nothing great about him but his heart. A long and bitter struggle for existence had left no hardness in his smooth-shaven flexible face, only wrinkles.

• Number Seventeen     by Louis Tracy
  There was nothing in the incident to provoke a second thought. Assuredly, Frank Theydon--as his friends called him--was not the only man in the vestibule of Daly's Theater who had found the girl well worth looking at

• The Mirror of Kong Ho     by Ernest Bramah
  Concerning the real nature of the devices by which the ships are propelled at sea and the carriages on land, I must still unroll a blank mind until I can secretly, and without undue hazard, examine them more closely. If, as you maintain, it is the work of captive demons hidden away among their most inside parts, it must be admitted that these usually intractable beings . . .

• Many Waters     by Margaret Deland
  She brooded over instances of goodness suspected, of innocent men condemned, of the blunders and mistakes of Justice. It was not until three or four days before the trial that Bates realized what even Thomas Fleming had not understood, that she was consumed with fear.

• Kai Lung's Golden Hours     by Ernest Bramah
  Kai Lung cast himself down in refuge from the noontide sun and slept. When he woke it was with the sound of discreet laughter trickling through his dreams. He sat up and looked around. Across the glade two maidens stood in poised expectancy within the shadow of a wild fig-tree

• The Case of Euphemia Raphash     by M. P. Shiel
  the house was in darkness; and it was an hour later that a scream shrilled through the night. Mrs. Grant was able to light a candle, and had opened her door, when she dimly saw a man rushing towards her with some singular weapon in his hand which flashed vividly in the half-dark . . .

• Farewell, Nikola!     by Guy Boothby
  Venice the silent and mysterious; the one European city of which I never tire. My wife had not enjoyed good health for some months past, and for this reason we had been wintering in Southern Italy. After that we had come slowly north, spending a month in Florence, and a fortnight in Rome en route, until we found ourselves in Venice, occupying a suite of apartments at Galaghetti's famous hotel overlooking the Grand Canal. Our party was a small one; it consisted of my wife, her friend Gertrude Trevor, and myself, Richard Hatteras, once of the South Sea Islands

• The Lust Of Hate     by Guy Boothby
  I detested my home as cordially as I loathed my parent, and was never so happy as when at school -- an unnatural feeling, as you will admit, in one so young. From Eton I went up to Oxford, where my former ill luck pursued me.

• Dr. Nikola Returns     by Guy Boothby
  It was Saturday afternoon, about a quarter-past four o'clock if my memory serves me, and the road, known as the Maloo, leading to the Bubbling Well, that single breathing place of Shanghai, was crowded. Fashionable barouches, C-spring buggies, spider-wheel dogcarts

• A Bid For Fortune     by Guy Boothby
  Richard Hatteras, at your service, commonly called Dick, of Thursday Island, North Queensland, pearler, copra merchant, beche-de-mer and tortoise-shell dealer, and South Sea trader generally. Eight-and-twenty years of age, neither particularly good-looking nor, if some people are to be believed, particularly amiable, six feet two in my stockings, and forty-six inches round the chest; strong as a Hakodate wrestler, and perfectly willing at any moment to pay ten pounds sterling to the man who can put me on my back.

• Danny's Own Story     by Don Marquis
  One Saturday night, when he come home from the village in his usual fix, he stumbled over a basket that was setting on his front steps. Then he got up and drawed back his foot unsteady to kick it plumb into kingdom come.

• The Bittermeads Mystery     by E. R. Punshon
  The boy was still laughing as he held out his hand for the ticket, and the stranger gave it to him with one hand and at the same time shot out a long arm, caught the boy - a well-grown lad of sixteen - by the middle and, with as little apparent effort as though lifting a baby

• In The Bishop's Carriage     by Miriam Michelson
  There was the woman who's always hungry, nibbling chocolates out of a box; and the woman fallen asleep, with her hat on the side, and hairpins dropping out of her hair; and the woman who's beside herself with fear that she'll miss her train; and the woman who is taking notes about the other women's rigs.

• The Blotting Book     by Edward Frederic Benson
  Violent vitality was his also; his was the hot blood that could do any deed when the life-instinct commanded it. He looked like one of those who could give their body to be burned in the pursuit of an idea, or could as easily steal, or kill, provided only the deed was vitally done in the heat of his blood.

• The Trees of Pride     by Gilbert K. Chesterton
  It was cut out against the emerald or indigo of the sea in graven horns and crescents that might be the cast or mold of some such crested serpents; and, beneath, was pierced and fretted by caves and crevices, as if by the boring of some such titanic worms. Over and above this draconian architecture of the earth a veil of gray woods hung thinner like a vapor; woods which the witchcraft of the sea had, as usual, both blighted and blown out of shape.

• Secret Adversary     by Agatha Christie
  The two young people greeted each other affectionately, and momentarily blocked the Dover Street Tube exit in doing so. The adjective "old" was misleading. Their united ages would certainly not have totalled forty-five.

• The Wallet of Kai Lung     by Ernest Bramah
  "O illustrious person," said Kai Lung very earnestly, "this is evidently an unfortunate mistake. Doubtless you were expecting some exalted Mandarin to come and render you homage, and were preparing to overwhelm him with gratified confusion by escorting him yourself to your well-appointed abode.

• The Green Rust     by Edgar Wallace
  No greater difference could be imagined than existed between the man on the bed and the slim neat figure who sat by his side. John Millinborn, broad-shouldered, big-featured, a veritable giant in frame and even in his last days suggesting the enormous strength which had been his in his prime, had been an outdoor man

• Clue of the Twisted Candle     by Edgar Wallace
  The downpour was incessant and likely to last through the night. The high hedges on either side of the narrow road were so many leafy cascades; the road itself was in places ankle deep in mud. He stopped under the protecting cover of a big tree to fill and light his pipe and with its bowl turned downwards continued his walk. But for the driving rain which searched every crevice and found every chink in his waterproof armor, he preferred, indeed welcomed, the walk.

• The Count's Millions     by Emile Gaboriau
  And while the company sipped the fragrant beverage which had been generously tinctured with cognac, provided by the butler, they all united in abusing their common enemy, the master of the house.

• Other People's Money     by Emile Gaboriau
  One by one the lights go out, and the great windows with diminutive panes become dark. And if, after midnight, some belated citizen passes on his way home, he quickens his step, feeling lonely and uneasy, and apprehensive of the reproaches of his concierge

• Baron Trigault's Vengeance     by Emile Gaboriau
  Vengeance! that is the first, the only thought, when a man finds himself victimized, when his honor and fortune, his present and future, are wrecked by a vile conspiracy!

• The Mystery of Orcival     by Emile Gaboriau
  He had scarcely drawn his knife from his pocket, while looking about him with the poacher's unquiet glance, when he uttered a low cry, "Father! Here! Father!"

• One Bullet Makes Murder     by Norman A. Daniels
  Gallagher kept on going, every nerve and muscle attuned for instant action. Higgins would shoot. He had everything to lose by capture and nothing in resisting arrest by murdering an officer. You can only fry a man once and Higgins knew it!

• Doubled In Death     by Jack Storm
  The bandit car swerved around a corner on two wheels, narrowly missed climbing the curb and straightened out with a shrieking of tires. Ross took the corner just as fast but far more expertly.

• Border Traffic     by Edward Ronns
  Gil stepped out of the smart convertible sedan and studied the house with crinkled gray eyes, A dusty roadster was parked in the side driveway, and the porch door was ajar. Except for that and the new telephone wires, the place looked as if it had been deserted for years.

• A Bid For Fortune     by Guy Boothby
  It's really the most extraordinary affair I ever had to do with, he remarked to the placid face of the clock above mentioned. "And as I've been in the business just three-and-thirty years at eleven a.m. next Monday morning, I ought to know something about it.

• Manhattan Hayride     by Ben Conlon
  Jim Blake, of the narcotic squad, had shadowed too many men not to be aware that he himself was being tailed. Dummy Krail, proprietor of the amusement park, knew he was in the area.

• Reality Or Delusion?     by Mrs. Henry Wood
  It was autumn, and we were at Crabb Cot. Lena had been ailing; and in October Mrs. Todhetley proposed to the Squire that they should remove with her there, to see if the change would do her good.

• Skeleton In Our Closet     by William G. Bogart
  The news flashed through the underworld grapevine. It was on the tongues of stoolies in poolrooms on Eighth Avenue; a fink slipped into a phone booth near the Garden and called a brother rat who lived in a back room on Sixth Avenue.

• Hook Mcguire Gives   A Bowling Lesson   by George Allan Moffat
  Detective Hook McGuire walked up on the porch and stared at the open door. His face was worried as he walked through the door and into the dark living room. He managed to find his way to a rear hall and to the one room that was lighted.

• Paid To Die     by Norman A. Daniels
  His short hook jolted the bandit's head back, but didn't knock him out. O'Hara hastily transferred his gun to his left hand, drew back his right and got set to knock this crook into unconsciousness.

• Murder With A Scent     by Milton Lowe
  A minute later the boathouse loomed ahead, looking more like an apparition than a two-story structure. Ace switched off the engine, allowed his craft to drift with the tide while he waited, hawser in hand. Almost immediately the cutter's prow nosed against the wharf, rubbed abeam.

• Murder Without A Corpse     by Norman A. Daniels
  The blast of a gun broke the early morning quiet! The killer fired four shots, very fast but apparently with remarkable accuracy for the man on the sidewalk stopped, straight- ened up to his full height, and then pitched forward.

• The Man Who Was Thursday     G. K. Chesterton
  big Chinese lanterns glowed in the dwarfish trees like some fierce and monstrous fruit. And this was strongest of all on one particular evening, still vaguely remembered in the locality, of which the auburn-haired poet was the hero.

• Riggs Is Here     by Jackson Gregory, Jr.
  He had arrived at the door to International Agency's office well before eight that morning. When Carey's secretary got there to open up, she looked at him, sighed, and let him in to wait.

• The Mark of Zorro     by Johnston McCulley
  Twice before Gonzales had done so, to the great damage of furniture and men's faces; and the landlord had appealed to the comandante of the presidio, Captain Ramon, only to be informed that the captain had an abundance of troubles of his own, and that running an inn was not one of them.

Pages Updated On: 1-August- MMIII
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