Queux: 263 books

Some year and a half ago, my friend and erstwhile neighbour. Dr. Archibald More d’Escombe, died suddenly, and shortly after his decease I received from his solicitors a sealed packet addressed to me in his handwriting, with instructions that it was not to be opened until after his death.

IS ABOUT MYSELF That they were hard, undeniable facts, presenting a problem both startling and sensational, the reader will quickly learn from this straightforward narrative—an open confession of what actually occurred. In all innocence, and certainly without any desire to achieve that ephemeral notoriety...

THE LAIRD OF GLENCARDINE "Why, what's the matter, child? Tell me." "Nothing, dad—really nothing." "But you are breathing hard; your hand trembles; your pulse beats quickly. There's something amiss—I'm sure there is. Now, what is it? Come, no secrets." The girl, quickly snatching away her hand, answered...

Marigold Ramsay was just twenty-one, and an uncommonly pretty girl, though unconsciously so. Men turned to glance a second time at her as she passed. Though a typical London business girl who carried her leather dispatch-case on weekdays, she bore an air of distinction which was unusual in one of...

A MOVE ON THE “FORTY” In Paris, in Rome, in Florence, in Berlin, in Vienna—in fact, over half the face of Europe, from the Pyrenees to the Russian frontier—I am now known as “The Count’s Chauffeur.” An Englishman, as my name George Ewart denotes, I am of cosmopolitan birth and education,...

Ali Ben Hafiz. The adventure was strange, the mystery inexplicable. A blazing noontide in the month of Moharram. Away across the barren desert to the distant horizon nothing met the aching eye but a dreary waste of burning red-brown sand under a cloudless sky shining like burnished copper. Not an object...

”Of course the transaction is a purely private one. There is, I suppose, no chance of the truth leaking out? If so, it might be very awkward, you know.” „None whatever. Your Excellency may rely upon me to deal with these people cautiously. Besides, they have their own reputation to consider–as...

When I was fourteen, we moved to London with my father. He became an agent on Wood Street, City, representing a large silk maker in Lyon. At the age of twenty, I worked in an office with dusty books and a large armchair that I did not really like. I was always interested in mechanics, but my father did not perceive her as a profession and wanted me to walk in his footsteps.

In order to ease my conscience and, further, to disclose certain facts which for the past year or two have, I know, greatly puzzled readers of our daily newspapers, I have decided to here reveal some very curious and, perhaps, sensational circumstances. In fact, after much perplexity and long consideration,...

I AM fully aware, my dear Lanner-Brown, that after my death, when you open these pages, you will be greatly shocked. The skeleton which for many years has been locked so securely in my cupboard, and which I now at last have courage to reveal, will, I know, stagger you. I, Archibald More d'Escombe, have...

"A remarkable story, crowded with the most exciting situations, and bristling with crimes which only the brain of a most versatile author could conceive."

Concerns a Proposal of Marriage. “Then you really don’t intend to marry me, Wilfrid?” “The honour of being your husband, Tibbie, I must respectfully decline,” I said. “But I’d make you a very quiet, sociable wife, you know. I can ride to hounds, cook, sew clothes for old people, and drive a motor. What higher qualifications do you want?” “Well—love, for instance

"See! It's-it's in my kit-bag, over there! The thing-the Thing at which the whole world will stand aghast!" The thin, white-faced, grey-bearded man lying on his back in bed roused himself with difficulty, and with skinny finger pointed at his strong but battered old leather bag lying in the corner of the small hotel bedroom...