A spatter of late spring rain drummed a harsh tattoo on the leaded panes of a cottage that stood on the edge of the forest, as forlornly alone as a castaway, its feet in an undulating tide of grey-green...

If Joan Worralson,  better known to her friends as Worrals, hadn’t run into Air Commodore Raymond, Assistant Commissioner of Police at Scotland Yard, by accident in Piccadilly, the mysterious happenings...

Night had drawn its black-out curtain across the coast of Northern France; but like most black-out curtains it was not perfect; from time to time a crescent moon peered mistily through lowering clouds...

Cet ouvrage est une réédition numérique d’un livre paru au XXe siècle, désormais indisponible dans son format d’origine.

Cet ouvrage est une réédition numérique d’un livre paru au XXe siècle, désormais indisponible dans son format d’origine.

It was a miserable day in early spring; April, to be precise. For a week or more the wind had blown steadily from the north-east, bringing with it low, scudding clouds that from time to time precipitated...

For the sixth time in less than half an hour I glanced at my watch and then back across the dinner-table at my old friend ‘Steeley’ Delaroy. “What’s the young beggar doing, I wonder?” I muttered irritably....

The speaker was my old friend “Steeley” Delaroy. He was leaning over the rail of the dirtiest steamer on which it has ever been my misfortune to travel, gazing with speculative but slightly amused eyes...

“Well, and what do you think of Paris?” I sipped my Pernod before turning to Brian Ballantyne for an answer to my question. The early spring evening had drawn to a close in a fine drizzle of rain, so...

Flight-lieutenant Guy Baring hated the dry, dusty road between the Royal Air Force Station at Hinaidi and Baghdad, yet certain minor duties in connection with this self-imposed office of Station Sports...