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قراءة كتاب McAllister and His Double
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McALLISTER
AND HIS DOUBLE
BY
ARTHUR TRAIN
ILLUSTRATED
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
NEW YORK:::::::::::::::::1905
Copyright, 1905, by
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Published, September, 1905
TROW DIRECTORY
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY
NEW YORK
CONTENTS
| PAGE | |
| McAllister's Christmas | 1 |
| The Baron de Ville | 53 |
| The Escape of Wilkins | 77 |
| The Governor-General's Trunk | 113 |
| The Golden Touch | 141 |
| McAllister's Data of Ethics | 177 |
| McAllister's Marriage | 205 |
| The Jailbird | 233 |
| In the Course of Justice | 255 |
| The Maximilian Diamond | 283 |
| Extradition | 311 |
ILLUSTRATIONS
| McAllister whispered sharply in his ear | Frontispiece |
| FACING PAGE | |
| "What do you know about it? I tell you it's all rot!" | 6 |
| "Throw up your hands!" | 10 |
| "Do you know who you've caught?" | 16 |
| "Merry Christmas, Fatty!" | 24 |
| "I think you've got Raffles whipped to a standstill." | 64 |
| "You think you're a sure winner. But I know you. I know your face." | 88 |
| "Wot do you want?" drawled the fat man, blinking at the lantern | 102 |
| "Who in thunder are you?" | 110 |
| Deftly tied the two ends of string around it | 130 |
| "Hands up, or I'll shoot!" yelled the detective, as a fat, wild-eyed individual sprung from within | 136 |
| He hesitated a moment as if giving the matter the consideration it deserved | 324 |
McAllister's Christmas
I
McAllister was out of sorts. All the afternoon he had sat in the club window and watched the Christmas shoppers hurrying by with their bundles. He thanked God he had no brats to buy moo-cows and bow-wows for. The very nonchalance of these victims of a fate that had given them families irritated him. McAllister was a clubman, pure and simple; that is to say though neither simple nor pure, he was a clubman and nothing more. He had occupied the same seat by the same window during the greater part of his earthly existence, and they were the same seat and window that his father had filled before him. His select and exclusive circle called him "Chubby," and his five-and-forty years of terrapin and cocktails had given him a graceful rotundity of person that did not belie the name. They had also endowed him with a cheerful though somewhat florid countenance, and a permanent sense of well-being.