: E. W. Hornung
: Dead Men Tell No Tales
: Seltzer Books
: 9781455354337
: 1
: CHF 0.70
:
: Krimis, Thriller, Spionage
: English
: 571
: DRM
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
Classic mystery/detective novel. According to Wikipedia: 'Ernest William Hornung (June 7, 1866 - March 22, 1921)... was an English author, most famous for writing the Raffles series of novels about a gentleman thief in late Victorian London. Hornung was the third son of John Peter Hornung, a Hungarian, and was born in Middlesbrough, England. He was educated at Uppingham School during some of the later years of its great headmaster, Edward Thring. He spent most of his life in England and France, but in 1884 left for Australia and stayed for two years where he working as a tutor at Mossgiel station. Although his Australian experience had been so short, it coloured most of his literary work from A Bride from the Bush published in 1899, to Old Offenders and a few Old Scores, which appeared after his death. He returned from Australia in 1886, and married Constance ('Connie') Doyle (1868-1924), the sister of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in 1893. Hornung published the poems Bond and Free and Wooden Crosses in The Times. The character of A. J. Raffles, a 'gentleman thief', first appeared in Cassell's Magazine in 1898 and the stories were later collected as The Amateur Cracksman (1899). Other titles in the series include The Black Mask (1901), A Thief in the Night (1905), and the full-length novel Mr. Justice Raffles (1909)..'

 CHAPTER XV. FIRST BLOOD


 

 So I bound myself to a guilty secrecy for Eva's sake, to save her from these wretches, or if you will, to win her for myself.  Nor did it strike me as very strange, after a moment's reflection, that she should intercede thus earnestly for a band headed by her own mother's widower, prime scoundrel of them all though she knew him to be.  The only surprise was that she had not interceded in his name; that I should have forgotten, and she should have allowed me to forget, the very existence of so indisputable a claim upon her loyalty.  This, however, made it a little difficult to understand the hysterical gratitude with which my unwilling promise was received.  Poor darling!  she was beside herself with sheer relief. She wept as I had never seen her weep before.  She seized and even kissed my hands, as one who neither knew nor cared what she did, surprising me so much by her emotion that this expression of it passed unheeded.  I was the best friend she had ever had.  I was her one good friend in all the world; she would trust herself to me; and if I would but take her to the convent where she had been brought up, she would pray for me there until her death, but that would not be very long.

 

All of which confused me utterly; it seemed an inexplicable breakdown in one who had shown such nerve and courage hitherto, and so hearty a loathing for that damnable Santos.  So completely had her presence of mind forsaken her that she looked no longer where she had been gazing hitherto.  And thus it was that neither of us saw Jose until we heard him calling,"Senhora Evah! Senhora Evah!" with some rapid sentences in Portuguese.

 

"Now is our time," I whispered, crouching lower and clasping a small hand gone suddenly cold. "Think of nothing now but getting out of this.  I'll keep my word once we are out; and here's the toy that's going to get us out."  And I produced my Deane and Adams with no small relish.

 

A little trustful pressure was my answer and my reward; meanwhile the black was singing out lustily in evident suspicion and alarm.

 

"He says they are coming back," whispered Eva;"but that's i