The Hillman

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Mysterious Mr. Sabin

Harold Morrow Sherman was a prolific American author, lecturer and psychical researcher.

In Aiding and Abetting, the doyenne of literary satire has written a wickedly amusing and subversive novel around the true-crime case of one of England’s most notorious uppercrust scoundrels and the “aiders and abetters” who kept him on the loose. When Lord Lucan walks into psychiatrist Hildegard Wolf’s Paris office, there is one problem: she already has a patient who says he’s Lucan, the fugitive murderer who bludgeoned his children’s nanny in a botched attempt to kill his wife. As Dr. Wolf sets about deciding which of her patients, if either, is the real Lucan, she finds herself in a fierce battle of wills and an exciting chase across Europe. For someone is deceiving someone, and it may be the good doctor, who, despite her unorthodox therapeutic method (she talks mainly about her own life), has a sinister past, too. Exhibiting Muriel Spark’s boundless imagination and biting wit, Aiding and Abetting is a brisk, clever, and deliciously entertaining tale by one of Britain’s greatest living novelists. From the Trade Paperback edition.

What’s your worst nightmare? For Ivy Jensen, it’s the eyes of a killer that haunt her nights. For Parker Bradley, it’s bloodthirsty sea serpents that slither in his dreams. And for seven essay contestants, it’s their worst nightmares that win them an exclusive, behind-the-scenes look at director Justin Blake’s latest, confidential project. Ivy doesn’t even like scary movies, but she’s ready to face her real-world fears. Parker’s sympathetic words and perfect smile help keep her spirits up. . . at least for now. Not everyone is so charming, though. Horror-film fanatic Garth Vader wants to stir up trouble. It’s bad enough he has to stay in the middle of nowhere with this group—the girl who locks herself in her room; the know-it-all roommate; “Mister Sensitive”; and the one who’s too cheery for her own good. Someone has to make things interesting. Except, things are already a little weird. The hostess is a serial-killer look-alike, the dream-stealing Nightmare Elf is lurking about, and the seventh member of the group is missing. By the time Ivy and Parker realize what’s really at stake, it’s too late to wake up and run.

CHAPTER I ANTICIPATIONS Three girls were strolling down the street, and, as on the occasion when the three fishermen once sailed out to sea, the sun was going down. The golden rays, slanting in from over the western hills that stood back of the little town of Deepdale, struck full in the faces of the maids as they turned a corner, and so bright was the glare that one of them—a tall, willowy lass, with a wealth of fluffy, light hair, turned aside with a cry of annoyance. "Oh, why can't the sun be nice!" she exclaimed, half-petulantly. "What do you want it to do, Grace?" asked a vivacious, dark-complexioned sprite next to the complaining one. "Go under a cloud just to suit you?" "No, my dear, I'm not as fussy as that!" "Indeed not!" chimed in the third member of the trio, a quiet girl, with thoughtful eyes. "What Grace wants is some nice young fellow to come along with an umbrella, hoist it over her, and invite her in to have—a chocolate soda!" "Why, Amy Blackford! I'll never speak to you again!" gasped the accused one, blushing vividly, the more so as the rays of the setting sun fell upon her face. "All I said was——" "Look!" suddenly interrupted the vivacious member of the small party—a party that attracted no little attention, for at the sight of the three pretty girls, strolling arm in arm down the main thoroughfare of the town, more than one person turned for a second look. "Gracious! What is it?" demanded Grace. "Did you see—some one, Billy?" "No—something," came the answer from the dark girl with the boyish name, and at a glance you could understand why she was called so. There was such a wholesome, frank and comrade-like quality about her, though she was not at all masculine, that "Billy" just suited. "Look," she went on. "Isn't that a perfectly gorgeous display of chocolates!" and she indicated the window of a confectionery store just in front of them. "Oh, I must have some of those!" cried Grace Ford. "Come on in, girls! I'll treat. They're those new bitter-sweet chocolates. I didn't know Borker kept them. I'm simply dying for some!" and with this rather exaggerated statement she fairly pulled her two chums after her into the store. "Look!" Grace went on, pausing a moment when inside the shop to glance at the chocolate display in the show-window. "Did you ever see anything so—so appetizing?" "It looks like a display at a picnic candy kitchen," murmured she who had been called Billy. "Why, Mollie Billette!" reproached Grace Ford. "I think it's perfectly splendid." "But not appetizing," declared Amy Blackford. "I don't see how you can think of eating any, when it's so near dinner time, Grace." "We don't have dinner until seven, and it's only five. Besides, I'm not going to eat many—now." "No, she'll take a box home, and keep them in bed, under her pillow—I know her," put in Mollie, alias Billy. "I slept with her one night and I wondered whether she had lumps of coal, or some kitchen kindling wood between the sheets. But it wasn't—it was chocolates!...

CHAPTER I.INTRODUCES MRS. JAMES PREEDY; HINTS AT THE TROUBLE INTO WHICH SHE HAS FALLEN; AND GIVES AN INSIGHT INTO HER SOCIAL POSITION.Mrs. James Preedy, lodging-house keeper, bred and born in the vocation, and consequently familiar with all the moves of that extensive class of persons in London that has no regular home, and has to be cooked for, washed for, and generally done for, sat in the kitchen of her house, No. 118, Great Porter Square. This apartment was situated in the basement, and here Mrs. Preedy received her friends and “did” for her lodgers, in so far as the cooking for them can be said to be included in that portentous and significant term. The floor of the kitchen was oil-clothed, with, in distinguished places, strips of carpet of various patterns and colours, to give it an air. Over the mantelpiece was a square looking-glass in a mahogany frame, ranged on each side of which were faded photographs of men, women, and children, and of one gentleman in particular pretending to smoke a long pipe. This individual, whose face was square, whose aspect was frowning, and whose shirt sleeves were tucked up in an exceedingly free and easy fashion, was the pictorial embodiment of Mrs. Preedy’s deceased husband. While he lived he was “a worryer, my dear,” to quote Mrs. Preedy—and to do the lady justice, he looked it; but being gone to that bourne from which no lodging-house keeper ever returns, he immediately took his place in the affections of his widow as “the dear departed” and a “blessed angel.” Thus do we often find tender appreciation budding into flower even at the moment the undertaker nails the lid upon the coffin, and Mr. Preedy, when the breath was out of his body, might (spiritually) have consoled himself with the reflection that he was not the only person from whose grave hitherto unknown or unrecognised virtues ascend. The weapons of the dead warrior, two long and two short pipes, were ranged crosswise on the wall with mathematical tenderness. When her day’s work was over, and Mrs. Preedy, a lonely widow, sat by herself in the kitchen, she was wont to look regretfully at those pipes, wishing that he who had smoked them were alive to puff again as of yore; forgetting, in the charity of her heart, the crosses and vexations of her married life, and how often she had called her “blessed angel” a something I decline to mention for defiling the kitchen with his filthy smoke.CONTENTS1. Introduces Mrs. James Preedy; hints at the trouble into which she has fallen; and gives an insight into her social position2. What was printed on the quarto bill: a proclamation by her Majesty’s Government3. Extracted from the “Evening Moon”4. The examination of Mrs. Preedy, continued from the “Evening Moon”5. Contains further extracts from the “Evening Moon” relating to the Great Porter Square mystery6. The “Evening Moon” speaks its mind7. In which the “Evening Moon” continues to speak its mind8. The “Evening Moon” postpones its statement respecting Antony Cowlrick9. In which the “Evening Moon” relates the adventures of its Special Correspondent10. The Special Reporter of the “Evening Moon” makes the acquaintance of a little match girl11. The “Evening Moon” for a time takes leave of the case of Antony Cowlrick12. Mrs. Preedy has dreadful dreams13. Mrs. Preedy’s young man lodger14. In which Becky commences a letter to a friend in the country15. In which Becky continues her letter, and relates how she obtained the situation at No. 11816. In which Becky writes a second letter to her friend in the country, and gives a woman’s reason for not liking Richard Manx17. In which Becky, continuing her letter, relates her impressions of Mrs. Preedy’s young man lodger18. The “Evening Moon” reopens the subject of the Great Porter Square murder, and relates a romantic story concerning the murdered man and his widow19. The “Evening Moon” continues its account of the tragedy, and describes the shameful part enacted by Mr. F

“Books alter men, and men, in their turn, alter worlds.” Soter is a man who has been haunted by World War I. But when he’s sent to investigate the disappearance of Lionel Maudling, the owner of a grand country house whose heir may be accused for his death, he encounters a home that will lead him to nightmares he could have never imagined. Maudling’s estate houses countless books of every sort—histories, dramas, scientific treatises. But none seems to offer Soter any hint to Maudling’s whereabouts, until he’s led to an arcane London bookseller where the reclusive scholar made his last purchase. What Soter finds at the end of a twisted maze of clues is a book like no other, with a legacy that will put everything he knows in danger… An inventive horror novella from internationally bestselling author John Connolly, this is a story of madness, of obsession, and of books’ power to change the world.

The New York Times bestselling author of the Maisie Dobbs series turns her prodigious talents to this World War I standalone novel, a lyrical drama of love struggling to survive in a damaged, fractured world. By July 1914, the ties between Kezia Marchant and Thea Brissenden, friends since girlhood, have become strained—by Thea’s passionate embrace of women’s suffrage, and by the imminent marriage of Kezia to Thea’s brother, Tom, who runs the family farm. When Kezia and Tom wed just a month before war is declared between Britain and Germany, Thea’s gift to Kezia is a book on household management—a veiled criticism of the bride’s prosaic life to come. Yet when Tom enlists to fight for his country and Thea is drawn reluctantly onto the battlefield, the farm becomes Kezia’s responsibility. Each must find a way to endure the ensuing cataclysm and turmoil. As Tom marches to the front lines, and Kezia battles to keep her ordered life from unraveling, they hide their despair in letters and cards filled with stories woven to bring comfort. Even Tom’s fellow soldiers in the trenches enter and find solace in the dream world of Kezia’s mouth-watering, albeit imaginary meals. But will well-intended lies and self-deception be of use when they come face to face with the enemy? Published to coincide with the centennial of the Great War, The Care and Management of Lies paints a poignant picture of love and friendship strained by the pain of separation and the brutal chaos of battle. Ultimately, it raises profound questions about conflict, belief, and love that echo in our own time.

“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.”

"DOGBONES! DOGBONES! DOGBONES!" For Oz Levinson, life is always the same. No matter what school he goes to, it's always sharks -- bullies -- versus everyone else. What would Oz's hero, James Bond, aka 007, do? He would make mincemeat of the sharks. But Oz is no 007 -- more like double-o-lard. Then Oz meets Glory Mouse, a skateboarding private eye trying to take down the evil rat leader, Roquefort Dupont, and Oz is swept into a exciting world of espionage. But this is no make-believe movie. It's real life: mice vs. rats, kids vs. bullies, good vs. evil. And all the power lies in one paw.

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.

Burt L. Standish, a pen name used by Gilbert Patten, was a popular 20th century writer of dime novels and short stories, with his best known work being the Frank Merriwell stories

"A skillful, clever, and engrossing book." -Scotsman "It holds the attention of the reader from the first page to the last." -Yorkshire Post "Those who embark on 'The Mystery of Lincoln's Inn' will not feel that they can quit the atmosphere of the Law Courts whilst it remains." -Gentlewoman "Mr. Robert Machray is not a man who believes in half measures; he means a mystery to be a mystery right up to the last chapter, and has evidently written 'The Mystery of Lincoln's Inn' on this admirable principle. It is a most ingenious story, but it would be a shame to give Mr. Machray away by unfolding the details of his intricate plot. Suffice it to say that this is a tale of an unscrupulous lawyer who lived a double life and kept a secret drawer in his room, all of which led tot he undoing of his guileless partner." -The Bookman