The river of stars

Amber sat in his cell at Wellboro’ gaol, softly whistling a little tune and beating time on the floor with his stockinged feet. He had pushed his stool near to the corrugated wa...

No. 46, Curefax Street, West Central, is an establishment which is known to a select few as “The Whistlers.” Its official title is Pinnock’s Club. It was founded in the early da...

He had an invitation to take tea with Cynthia Sutton at five o’clock in the afternoon. He had thought to hand the money to her on behalf of her brother--on second thoughts he de...

Lambaire had an office in the city, where he conducted a business. No man knew what the business was. There was a brass plate on the door which offered no solution other than th...

She stood by the window, drawing patterns with the tips of her fingers on the polished surface of a small table, and her eyes were fixed on the street without.

No word was spoken by Lambaire or Whitey as a taxi-cab carried them through the city to the big man’s office. They had taken a hurried and disjointed farewell of Sutton and had...

Peter Musk had the entire top floor of 19, Redcow Court, and was accounted an ideal tenant by his landlord, for he paid his rent regularly. Of the three rooms, Peter occupied on...

Long after the roar of the waking world dies down, there is a fitful rumbling of traffic, a jingling of bells, as belated hansoms come clip-clopping through the deserted streets...

Cynthia Sutton was twenty-three, and, by all standards, beautiful. Her hair was a rich chestnut, her eyes were big, and of that shade which is either blue or grey, according to...

In his forty-two years of life he had collected them as another man might collect old prints. That he started forth at the outset, and of perversity chose the shadier walks of l...

“I am tired of prison life, my governor,” he said brusquely, “and I’ll take a thousand to thirty you do not know what I mean: I am tired of this prison, which is Hell with the l...

Amber went down to Southampton one cheerless day in December, when a grey, sad mist lay on the waters, and all that was land spoke of comfort, of warm, snug chimney corners and...

In the K’hassi backland three men sat at chop. The sun was going down, and a log fire such as the native will build on the hottest day sent up a thin straight whisp of smoke.

To walk into a room in West Central Africa with your mind engaged on such matters as occupied the minds of Lambaire and Whitey, and to come suddenly upon a man whom you thought...

It was a fortunate circumstance that within three days two homeward-bound ships called at the little coast town where the Commissioner for the Alebi district made his headquarte...

Such was the heading of the prospectus which found its way into every letter-box of every house of every man who had speculated wisely, or unwisely, in stock exchange securities.

Whitey met Lambaire by appointment at the Whistlers. Lambaire was the sole occupant of the card-room when the other entered. He was sitting at one of the green baize-covered tab...

Amber found the road from Maidstone to Rochester a most pleasant way. There are those who in the early spring might have complained that it erred on the side of monotony, that t...

He was dressed in a thick motor coat and a tweed cap was pulled down over his forehead. The girl had made him some tea and prepared a little meal for him.