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قراءة كتاب The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Modern English
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The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Modern English
THE LOCK AND KEY LIBRARY
CLASSIC MYSTERY AND DETECTIVE STORIES
EDITED BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE
MODERN ENGLISH
Rudyard Kipling A. Conan Doyle
Egerton Castle
Stanley J. Weyman Wilkie Collins
Robert Louis Stevenson
NEW YORK
THE REVIEW OF REVIEWS CO.
1909
"And Sent out a Jet of Fire from His Nostrils"
Drawing by Power O'Malley.
To illustrate "In the House of Suddhoo," by Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling |
My Own True Ghost Story |
The Sending of Dana Da |
In the House of Suddhoo |
His Wedded Wife |
A. Conan Doyle |
A Case of Identity |
A Scandal in Bohemia |
The Red-Headed League |
Egerton Castle |
The Baron's Quarry |
Stanley J. Weyman |
The Fowl in the Pot |
Robert Louis Stevenson |
The Pavilion on the Links |
Wilkie Collins |
The Dream Woman |
The First Narrative |
The Second Narrative |
The Third Narrative |
Fourth (and Last) Narrative |
Anonymous |
The Lost Duchess |
The Minor Canon |
The Pipe |
The Puzzle |
The Great Valdez Sapphire |
Rudyard Kipling
My Own True Ghost Story
As I came through the Desert.
The City of Dreadful Night.
Somewhere in the Other World, where there are books and pictures and plays and shop windows to look at, and thousands of men who spend their lives in building up all four, lives a gentleman who writes real stories about the real insides of people; and his name is Mr. Walter Besant. But he will insist upon treating his ghosts—he has published half a workshopful of them—with levity. He makes his ghost-seers talk familiarly, and, in some cases, flirt outrageously, with the phantoms. You may treat anything, from a Viceroy to a Vernacular Paper, with levity; but you must behave reverently toward a ghost, and particularly an Indian one.
There are, in this land, ghosts who take the form of fat, cold, pobby corpses, and hide in trees near the roadside till a traveler passes. Then they drop upon his neck and remain. There are also terrible ghosts of women who have died in child-bed. These wander along the pathways at dusk, or hide in the crops near a village, and call seductively. But to answer their call is death in this world and the next. Their feet are turned backward that all sober men may recognize them. There are ghosts of little children who have been thrown into wells. These haunt well curbs and the fringes of jungles, and wail under the stars, or catch women by the wrist and