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DETECTIVE CALEB SWEETWATER MYSTERIES - Agatha Webb, The Woman in the Alcove & The House of the Whispering Pines Thriller Trilogy von Green, Anna Katharine (eBook)

  • Erscheinungsdatum: 01.06.2016
  • Verlag: e-artnow
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DETECTIVE CALEB SWEETWATER MYSTERIES - Agatha Webb, The Woman in the Alcove & The House of the Whispering Pines

This carefully crafted ebook: 'DETECTIVE CALEB SWEETWATER MYSTERIES - Agatha Webb, The Woman in the Alcove & The House of the Whispering Pines' is formatted for your eReader with a functional and detailed table of contents. Anna Katharine Green (1846-1935) was an American poet and novelist. She was one of the first writers of detective fiction in America and distinguished herself by writing well plotted, legally accurate stories. Green has been called 'the mother of the detective novel'. As journalist Kathy Hickman writes, Green 'stamped the mystery genre with the distinctive features that would influence writers from Agatha Christie and Conan Doyle to contemporary authors of suspenseful 'whodunits'. The Caleb Sweetwater Mysteries is a collection of three novels featuring Caleb Sweetwater, a policeman in New York City. Anna Katharine Green is credited with shaping detective fiction into its classic form, and developing the series detective. Table of Contents: Agatha Webb The Woman in the Alcove The House of the Whispering Pines

Produktinformationen

    Format: ePUB
    Kopierschutz: watermark
    Seitenzahl: 426
    Erscheinungsdatum: 01.06.2016
    Sprache: Englisch
    ISBN: 9788026865179
    Verlag: e-artnow
    Größe: 902 kBytes
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DETECTIVE CALEB SWEETWATER MYSTERIES - Agatha Webb, The Woman in the Alcove & The House of the Whispering Pines

Chapter VIII.
"A Devil That Understands Men"
Table of Contents
Frederick Sutherland was a man of finer mental balance than he himself, perhaps, had ever realised. After the first few moments of stupefaction following the astounding alternative which had been given him, he broke out with the last sentence she probably expected to hear:

"What do you hope from a marriage with me, that to attain your wishes you thus sacrifice every womanly instinct?"

She met him on his own ground.

"What do I hope?" She actually glowed with the force of her secret desire. "Can you ask a poor girl like me, born in a tenement house, but with tastes and ambitions such as are usually only given to those who can gratify them? I want to be the rich Mr. Sutherland's daughter; acknowledged or unacknowledged, the wife of one who can enter any house in Boston as an equal. With a position like that I can rise to anything. I feel that I have the natural power and aptitude. I have felt it since I was a small child."

"And for that--" he began.

"And for that," she broke in, "I am quite willing to overlook a blot on your record. Confident that you will never repeat the risk of last night, I am ready to share the burden of your secret through life. If you treat me well, I am sure I can make that burden light for you."

With a quick flush and an increase of self-assertion, probably not anticipated by her, he faced the daring girl with a desperate resolution that showed how handsome he could be if his soul once got control of his body.

"Woman," he cried, "they were right; you are little less than a devil."

Did she regard it as a compliment? Her smile would seem to say so.

"A devil that understands men," she answered, with that slow dip of her dimples that made her smile so dangerous. "You will not hesitate long over this matter; a week, perhaps."

"I shall not hesitate at all. Seeing you as you are, makes my course easy. You will never share any burden with me as my wife."

Still she was not abashed.

"It is a pity," she whispered; "it would have saved you such unnecessary struggle. But a week is not long to wait. I am certain of you then. This day week at twelve o'clock, Frederick."

He seized her by the arm, and lost to everything but his rage, shook her with a desperate hand.

"Do you mean it?" he cried, a sudden horror showing itself in his face, notwithstanding his efforts to conceal it.

"I mean it so much," she assured him, "that before I came home just now I paid a visit to the copse over the way. A certain hollow tree, where you and I have held more than one tryst, conceals within its depths a package containing over one thousand dollars. Frederick, I hold your life in my hands."

The grasp with which he held her relaxed; a mortal despair settled upon his features, and recognising the impossibility of further concealing the effect of her words upon him, he sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands. She viewed him with an air of triumph, which brought back some of her beauty. When she spoke it was to say:

"If you wish to join me in Springfield before the time I have set, well and good. I am willing that the time of our separation should be shortened, but it must not be lengthened by so much as a day. Now, if you will excuse me, I will go and pack my trunks."

He shuddered; her voice penetrated him to the quick.

Drawing herself up, she looked down on him with a strange mixture of passion and elation.

"You need fear no indiscretion on my part, so long as our armistice lasts," said she. "No one can drag the truth from me while any hope remains of your doing your duty by me in the way I have suggested."

And still he did not move.

"Frederick?"

Was it her voice that was thus murmuring his name? Can the tiger snarl one moment and fawn the next?

"

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