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The Malefactor. E. Phillips OppenheimЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Malefactor - E. Phillips Oppenheim


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       E. Phillips Oppenheim

      The Malefactor

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4057664630087

       BOOK I

       A SOCIETY SCANDAL

       OUTSIDE THE PALE

       A STUDENT OF CHARACTER

       A DELICATE MISSION

       THE GOSPEL OF HATE

       “HAST THOU FOUND ME, O MINE ENEMY?”

       LORD OF THE MANOR

       THE HEART OF A CHILD

       THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES

       A FORLORN HOPE

       PROFESSOR SINCLAIR’S DANCING ACADEMY

       MEPHISTOPHELES ON A STEAMER

       A COCKNEY CONSPIRATOR

       THE MOTH AND THE CANDLE

       “Tomorrow morning,” Aynesworth remarked, “we shall land.”

       “DEVIL TAKE THE HINDMOST”

       THE HIDDEN HAND

       BOOK II

       “MR. WINGRAVE FROM AMERICA”

       THE SHADOW OF A FEAR

       JULIET ASKS QUESTIONS

       LADY RUTH’S LAST CARD

       GUARDIAN AND WARD

       GHOSTS OF DEAD THINGS

       SPREADING THE NETS

       “By the bye,” the Marchioness asked him, “have you a Christian name?”

       IN THE TOILS

       THE INDISCRETION OF THE MARCHIONESS

       “I AM MISANTHROPOS, AND HATE MANKIND”

       JULIET GAINS EXPERIENCE

       NEMESIS AT WORK

       RICHARDSON TRIES AGAIN

       “You saw—who that was?”

       “IT WAS AN ACCIDENT”

       AYNESWORTH PLANS A LOVE STORY

       A DEED OF GIFT

       FOR PITY’S SAKE

       A DREAM OF PARADISE

       THE AWAKENING

       REVENGE IS—BITTER

       THE WAY OF PEACE

       “LOVE SHALL MAKE ALL THINGS NEW”

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

      Tall and burly, with features and skin hardened by exposure to the sun and winds of many climates, he looked like a man ready to face all hardships, equal to any emergency. Already one seemed to see the clothes and habits of civilization falling away from him, the former to be replaced by the stern, unlovely outfit of the war correspondent who plays the game. They crowded round him in the club smoking room, for these were his last few minutes. They had dined him, toasted him, and the club loving cup had been drained to his success and his safe return. For Lovell was a popular member of this very Bohemian gathering, and he was going to the Far East, at a few hours’ notice, to represent one of the greatest of English dailies.

      A pale, slight young man, who stood at this right hand, was speaking. His name was Walter Aynesworth, and he was a writer of short stories—a novelist


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