When Shaalara of the Alteen Zirnaath, a sapient, medium-sized spider of the jumping variety came into Eichra Oren’s office to commission the Assessor of p’Na and his symbiote, canine detective Sam Otusam, to find the location of her fiancé, they were not expecting the ‘accidents’ that impeded their research, or the taking on even more unusual clients along the way. For conducting an investigation on the Elders’ planet is not an easy task. The Elders—large squid-like Superbeings—had ‘Appropriated’ species from all across the omniverse, plucking sapient races from alternate Earths, where they had faced extinction, or simply fascinated their new omnipotent benefactors. While the Elders’ had introduced the Appropriated Persons and their descendants to a world where there were no wars, and gifted them with lifetimes that averaged a thousand years—at least—it had long been determined that the peaceful beings should not have taken these species from their Earths; there was a sense of unease rising within the populace. Eichra Oren’s primary role as an Assessor of p’Na was to assess the actions of his clients, and determine whether they had atone for them—at the edge of his sword, or otherwise—but what of the Elders’ actions? Those directly involved with the Appropriation had long since ended their lives, when the moral implications of their actions had been made clear to them. But what about the rest of the Elders? Why were there whispers of new Appropriations? And who was the mysterious new race threatening Earth? Eichra and Sam were determined to find out…. And maybe, just maybe, find a runaway groom along the way.

The creator of Raffles brings this adventuresome Australian mystery to an exciting conclusion.Ernest William Hornung (1866-1921) was an English author and brother-in-law to Arthur Conan Doyle. An accomplished writer, Hornung is most famous for writing the Raffles series of novels about a gentleman thief in late Victorian London.This unexpurgated edition contains the complete text, with minor errors and omissions corrected.

Raymond Zinke Gallun (March 22, 1911 – April 2, 1994) was an American science fiction writer.

Valley of the Croen is presented here in a high quality paperback edition. This popular classic work by Lee Tarbell is in the English language, and may not include graphics or images from the original edition. If you enjoy the works of Lee Tarbell then we highly recommend this publication for your book collection.

Zehru of Xollar is presented here in a high quality paperback edition. This popular classic work by Hal K. Wells is in the English language, and may not include graphics or images from the original edition. If you enjoy the works of Hal K. Wells then we highly recommend this publication for your book collection.

It's All Yours is presented here in a high quality paperback edition. This popular classic work by Sam Merwin is in the English language, and may not include graphics or images from the original edition. If you enjoy the works of Sam Merwin then we highly recommend this publication for your book collection.

BEGGARS"My dear Maud, I hope I am not lacking in proper pride. But it is an accepted--though painful--fact that beggars cannot be choosers."Lady Brian spoke with plaintive emphasis the while she drew an elaborate initial in the sand at her feet with the point of her parasol."I cannot live in want," she said, after a thoughtful moment or two. "Besides, there is poor little Bunny to be considered." Another thoughtful pause; then: "What did you say, dear?"Lady Brian's daughter made an abrupt movement without taking her eyes off the clear-cut horizon; beautiful eyes of darkest, deepest blue under straight black brows that gave them a somewhat forbidding look. There was nothing remarkable about the rest of her face. It was thin and sallow and at the moment rather drawn, not a contented face, and yet possessing a quality indefinable that made it sad rather than bitter. Her smile was not very frequent, but when it came it transfigured her utterly. No one ever pictured that smile of hers beforehand. It came so brilliantly, so suddenly, like a burst of sunshine over a brown and desolate landscape, making so vast a difference that all who saw it for the first time marvelled at the unexpected glow.But it was very far from her face just now. In fact she looked as if she could never smile again as she said: "Bunny would sooner die of starvation than have you do this thing. And so would I.""You are so unpractical," sighed Lady Brian. "And really, you know, dear, I think you are just a wee bit snobbish too, you and Bunny. Mr. Sheppard may be a self-made man, but he is highly respectable.""Oh, is he?" said Maud, with a twist of the lips that made her look years older than the woman beside her."I'm sure I don't know why you should question it," protested Lady Brian. "He is extremely respectable. He is also extremely kind,--in fact, a friend in need.""And a beast!" broke in her daughter, with sudden passionate vehemence. "A hateful, familiar beast! Mother, how can you endure the man? How can you for a single moment demean yourself by the bare idea of--of marrying him?"Lady Brian sighed again. "It isn't as if I had asked you to marry him," she pointed out. "I never even asked you to marry Lord Saltash, although--as you must now admit--it was the one great chance of your life."Again Maud made that curious, sharp movement of hers that was as if some inner force urged her strongly to spring up and run away."We won't discuss Lord Saltash," she said, with lips that were suddenly a little hard."Then I don't see why we should discuss Giles Sheppard either," said Lady Brian, with a touch of querulousness. "Of course I know he doesn't compare well with your poor father. Second husbands so seldom do--which to my mind is one of the principal objections to marrying twice. But--as I said before--beggars cannot be choosers and something has got to be sacrificed, so there is an end of the matter."CONTENTSBeggarsThe IdolThe New AcquaintanceThe Accepted SuitorIn the DarkThe Unwilling GuestThe MagicianThe OfferThe Real ManThe Head of the FamilyThe Declaration of WarThe ReckoningThe Only PortThe Way of EscapeThe Closed DoorThe ChampionThe Wedding MorningThe Wedding NightThe Day AfterA Friend of the FamilyThe Old LifeThe Faithful WidowerThe Narrowing CircleBrothersMisadventureThe Word UnspokenThe TokenThe VisitorHer Other SelfThe Rising CurrentLight ReliefThe Only SolutionThe FurnaceThe SacrificeThe Offer of FreedomThe BondHusksThe Poison PlantConfidencesThe LetterRebellionThe ProblemThe Land of MoonshineThe WarningThe InvitationThe MistakeThe ReasonRefugeThe Lamp before the AltarThe Open DoorThe Downward PathThe RevelationThe Last ChanceThe WhirlpoolThe Outer DarknessDeliveranceThe Poison FruitThe LoserThe Storm WindThe Great BurdenThe BlowThe Deed of GiftThe ImpossibleThe First of the VulturesThe Dutiful WifeThe Lane of FireThe New BossOld ScoresThe Finish

This book was converted from its physical edition to the digital format by a community of volunteers. You may find it for free on the web. Purchase of the Kindle edition includes wireless delivery.

CHAPTER I "DO YOU SPEAK GERMAN?" "Hey, there, Mister!" called out Jabez Holt, from one of the two office windows in the little hotel at Dunhaven. As there was only one other man in the office, that other man guessed that he might be the one addressed. With a slight German accent the stranger, who was well-dressed, and looked like a prosperous as well as an educated man, turned and demanded: "You are calling me?" "I reckon," nodded Jabez. "Then my name is Herr Professor—" "Hair professor?" repeated Jabez Holt, a bit of astonishment showing in his wrinkled old face. "Hair professor? Barber, eh? Why, I thought you was a traveler. But hurry up over here—do you hear me?" "My good man," began the German, stiffly, drawing himself up to his full six-foot-one, "it is not often I am affronted by being addressed so—" "There! He'll be outer sight in another minute, while you are arguin' about your dignity!" muttered Holt. "And that's the feller you said you wanted to see—Jack Benson." "Benson?" cried the German, forgetting his outraged dignity and springing forward. "Benson?" "That's him—almost up to the corner," nodded Landlord Jabez Holt. "Run out and bring him back with you," directed Herr Professor Radberg."Be quick!" "Waal, I guess you're spryer'n I be," returned old Jabez, with a shrewd look at his guest. "Besides, it's you that wants the boy." Running back and snatching up his hat, Professor Radberg made for the street without further argument. Moving along hastily, the German soon came in sight of young Captain JackBenson, of the Pollard Submarine Torpedo Boat Company. "Ach, there! Herr Benson!" shouted the Professor. Hearing the hail, Jack Benson turned, then halted. "You are Herr Benson, are you not?" demanded Professor Radberg, as soon as he got close enough. "Benson is my name," nodded Jack, pleasantly. "Then come back to the hotel with me." "You are a foreigner, aren't you?" asked Jack, surveying the stranger coolly. "I am German," replied Radberg, in a tone of surprise. "I thought so," nodded the boy. "That is, I didn't know from what country you came. But, in this country, when we ask a favor of a stranger, we usually say 'please.'" "I am Herr Professor—" "Oh, barbers are just as polite as other folks," Jack assured him, his laughing eyes resting on the somewhat bewildered-looking face of the German. "Then please, Herr Benson, come back to the hotel with me." "Yes; if it's really necessary. But why do you want to go to the hotel?" "Because, Herr Benson, when we are there, I shall have much of importance to say to you." "Important to me, or to you?" asked Jack, thoughtfully. He had no intention of answering a much older man disrespectfully. But there was about Herr Radberg the air of a man who expects his greatness to be recognized at a glance, and who demands obedience from common people as a right. This sort of thing didn't fit well with the American boy. "Oh, it is important to you, and very much so," urged the Professor, somewhat more anxiously....

The Bobbsey Twins are the principal characters of what was, for many years, the longest-running series of children's novles. The books related the adventures of the children of the middle-class Bobbsey family, which included two sets of fraternal twins: Bert and Nan, who where 12 years old, and Flossie and Freddie, who where six. Share the stories of your childhood with your children and grandchildren! Here are the original Bobbsey Twin adventures

Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally there may be certain imperfections with these old texts, we feel they deserve to be made available for future generations to enjoy.

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

PREFACE. Several persons have asked me when Tom Slade was ever going to grow up and cease to be a Scout. The answer is that he is already grown up and that he is never going to cease to be a Scout. Once a Scout, always a Scout. To hear some people talk one would think that scouting is like the measles; that you get over it and never have it any more. Scouting is not a thing to play with, like a tin steam-engine, and then to throw aside. If you once get caught in the net of scouting, you will never disentangle yourself. A fellow may grow up and put on long trousers and go and call on a girl and all that sort of thing, but if he was a Scout, he will continue to be a Scout, and it will stick out all over him. You'll find him back in the troop as assistant or scoutmaster or something or other. I think Tom Slade is a very good example. He left the troop to go and work on a transport; he got into the motorcycle messenger service; he became one of the greatest daredevils of the air; he came home quite "grown up" as you would say, and knuckled down to be a big business man. Then, when it came to a show down, what did he do? He found out that he was just a plain Scout, shouldered his axe, and went off and did a big scout job all alone. So there you are. I am sorry for those who would have him too old for scouting, and who seem to think that a fellow can lay aside all he has learned in the woods and in the handbook, the same as he can lay aside his short trousers. It isn't as easy as all that. Did you suppose that Tom Slade was going to get acquainted with nature, with the woods and streams and trees, and make them his friends, and then repudiate these friends? Do you think that a Scout is a quitter? Tom Slade was always a queer sort of duck, and goodness only knows what he will do next. He may go to the North Pole for all I know. But one thing you may be sure of; he is still a Scout of the Scouts, and if you think he is too old to be a Scout, then how about Buffalo Bill? The fact is that Tom is just beginning to reap the real harvest of scouting. The best is yet to come, as Pee-wee Harris usually observes, just before dessert is served at dinner. If it is any satisfaction to you to know it, Tom is more of a Scout than at any time in his career, and there is a better chance of his being struck by lightening than his drifting away from the troop whose adventures you have followed with his. It is true that Tom has grown faster than his companions and found it necessary to go to work while they are still at school. And this very circumstance will enable us to see what scouting has done for him. Indeed if I could not show you that, then all of those eight stores of his adventures would have been told to little purpose. The chief matter of interest about a trail is where it leads to. It may be an easy trail or a hard trail, but the question is, where does it go to? It would be a fine piece of business, I think, to leave Tom sitting on a rock near the end of the trail without giving you so much as a glimpse of what is at the end of it....

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

“Look out, Dot! You’ll fall off that chair as sure as you live, child!” Tess was bustling and important. It was baking day in the Kenway household. She had the raisins to stone, and the smallest Kenway was climbing up to put the package of raisins back upon the cupboard shelf. There was going to be a cake for the morrow. Ruth was a-flour to her elbows, and Aggie was stirring the eggs till the beater was just “a-whiz.” Crash! Bang! Over went the chair; down came Dot; and the raisins scattered far and wide over the freshly scrubbed linoleum. Fortunately the little busy-body was not hurt. “What did I tell you?” demanded the raisin-seeder, after Ruth had made sure there were no broken bones, and only a “skinned” place on Dot’s wrist. “What did I tell you? You are such a careless child!”

A fascinating and very original mystery thriller by the acclaimed teacher, journalist, editor and novelist. Born in Glasgow, Scotland and educated in Canada, in 1876 Robert Barr became a member of the staff of the Detroit Free Press, in which his contributions appeared under the signature "Luke Sharp." In 1881 he removed to London, to establish the weekly English edition of the Free Press, and in 1892 he joined Jerome K. Jerome in founding the Idler magazine, from whose co-editorship he retired in 1895. He was a prolific author, producing many popular novels of the day.

THE CALICO CAT I Mr. peaslee looked more complacent than ever. It was Saturday noon, and Solomon had just returned from his usual morning sojourn "up-street." He had taken off his coat, and was washing his face at the sink, while his wife was "dishing up" the midday meal. There was salt codfish, soaked fresh, and stewed in milk—"picked up," as the phrase goes; there were baked potatoes and a thin, pale-looking pie. Mrs. Peaslee did not believe in pampering the flesh, and she did believe in saving every possible cent. "Well," said Mr. Peaslee, as they sat down to this feast, "I guess I've got news for ye." His wife gazed at him with interest. "Are ye drawed?" she asked. "Got the notice from Whitcomb right in my pocket. Grand juror. September term. 'T ain't more'n a week off." The staccato utterance was caused by the big mouthfuls of codfish and potato which, between phrases, Mr. Peaslee conveyed to his mouth. It was plain to see that he was greatly pleased with his new dignity. "What do they give ye for it?" asked his wife. Solomon should accept no office which did not bring profit. "Two dollars a day and mileage," said Mr. Peaslee, with the emphasis of one who knows he will make a sensation. "Mileage? What's that?" "Travelin' expenses. State allows ye so much a mile. I get eight cents for goin' to the courthouse." "Ye get eight cents every day?" asked his wife, her eyes snapping. She was vague about the duties of a grand juror; maybe he had to earn his two dollars; but she had exact ideas about the trouble of walking "up-street." To get eight cents for that was being paid for doing nothing at all, and she was much astonished at the idea. "Likely now, ain't it?" said Mr. Peaslee, with masculine scorn. "State don't waste money that way! Mileage's to get ye there an' take ye home again when term's over. You're s'posed to stay round 'tween whiles." "Humph!" said his wife, disappointed. "They give ye two dollars a day"—she hazarded the shot—"just for settin' round and talkin', don't they? Walkin's considerable more of an effort for most folks." "'Settin' round an' talkin'!'" exclaimed Mr. Peaslee, so indignantly that he stopped eating for a moment, knife and fork upright in his rigid, scandalized hands, while he gazed at his thin, energetic, shrewish little wife. "'Settin' round and talkin'!' It's mighty important work, now I tell ye. I guess there wouldn't be much law and order if it wa'n't for the grand jury. They don't take none but men o' jedgment. Takes gumption, I tell ye. Ye have to pay money to get that kind." "Well," said his wife, with the air of one who concedes an unimportant point, "anyhow, it's good pay for a man whose time ain't worth anythin'." "Ain't worth anythin'!" exclaimed Mr. Peaslee, in hurt tones. "Now, Sarepty, ye know better'n that. I don't know how they'll get along without me up to the bank. They've got a pretty good idee o' my jedgment 'bout mortgages. They don't pass any without my say so." Mrs. Peaslee sniffed. "I've seen ye in the bank window, settin' round with Jim Bartlett and Si Spooner and the rest of 'em....

THIS CLASSIC WORK IS REFORMATTED AND CAREFULLY REPRODUCED. It was not reproduced in a hurry from an old photocopy. Some reviews that may appear on Amazon reflect other editions of this book. To avoid buying a poor quality classic, always inspect its sample pages once they are available on Amazon.com. Sometimes you may need to click on a Kindle version before clicking on the print version. In case they do not appear initially, wait for a up to three days and they will. If they are still unavailable, consider buying a different book that offers a preview. Another sign to look for is "full justification" of lines: all the lines in a paragraph must have the same length, except for the last one, like the text columns in a newspaper. If they have a "rugged" look, the printing is bellow par. However, some people prefer the rugged look. Just make sure you know what you are buying. Finally, words at the end of sentences are rarely hyphened in this version. It is nearly hyphenation free.

Tormented by a macabre secret, Drake Harper has kept away from everyone, but his will faulter and he attempts to free himself from the pain. But it all goes awry in ways he could never fathom.A secret has kept Drake Harper away from 19th century high society and human contact for all his life. Tired of the self imposed isolation, he decides to solve his problem once and for all, even it means his life. But the consequences end up being more macabre than he could imagine.

Between the years 1977 to 1989 I had several friends and seemed to be out every night with one or all of them. The thing that didn’t occur to me then was they were all female but I had no intention of being anything other than a platonic friend with all of them and can’t think why.Each Sunday I would meet 3 girls at the café across the street from the church we attended and we would decide what adventures we would ‘get up to’ each week. If it was hot and sunny we could go to the seaside if not – which was more likely coming from Glasgow – we would visit places of local interest or just ‘hang out’ together.Being friends with them brought me into contact with several of their ‘other’ female friends and I found myself getting emotionally involved with them as well - but I had ‘fairly steady’ girlfriends most of the time so never thought of any of these girls as anything other than platonic acquaintances. One girl was Jewish – she rebelled against everything, her father, her religion, the world in general (when it suited her) and regarded the holocaust as a personal insult - although she knew nobody involved.One was a lesbian – the other girls tolerated her, because she was very funny and entertaining, as long as she kept her sexual preferences at a distance from them.One was a nymphomaniac – it wasn’t her fault, she often told me, she hated to sleep alone –and seldom did.One I met when she was 5 years old, then later when she was 11, and the last time when she was 16 and on her way to join a convent. She confessed she had a massive crush on me when we first met, which was re-kindled when my friends and I had helped her out when she was 11. She promised, the last time I saw her, to remember us all in her prayers.One was twice the age of the others, including me, and had been a ‘bit of a girl’ when she was younger and tried to convince all who came into contact with her that she ‘still had it’. Several of the girls doubted she ever had ‘it’ and no matter how hard she tried she was never likely to find ‘it’ again.One was, without doubt, the most beautiful girl I had ever met. A few years after I left their group she turned up in the local press and was lambasted by them when it emerged she was the mistress of a local businessman and dared to go to a prestigious function on the arm of a famous millionaire. They slaughtered her for about a week until the famous man quickly married his childhood sweetheart and she was never mentioned again. Each ‘Diamond’ in this adventure is based on several aspects of these ‘friends’. Their stories once told, their secrets once kept. Hopes and desires often shared - confessions and fantasies seldom overheard. Could it be it was all so simple then (The way we were)?