1
/
of
1
vladislav sogan
DANGEROUS GROUND OR THE RIVAL DETECTIVES
DANGEROUS GROUND OR THE RIVAL DETECTIVES
Regular price
$0.99 USD
Regular price
Sale price
$0.99 USD
Shipping calculated at checkout.
Quantity
Couldn't load pickup availability
• "TYPE 'SOGAN' IN THE NOOK BOOK SEARCH BOX TO VIEW ALL MY TITLES!"
• Illustrated book
• Images has been resized and optimized for the Nook
• Table of contents with working links to chapters is included
• The book has been corrected for spelling and grammatical errors
• New and improved version
•
“A nail! Touch it, boys; see the hellish cleverness of the crime; think what the criminal must be, to drive that nail home with one blow while poor Pearson lay sleeping, and then to rearrange the thick hair so skillfully. That was before the storm, I feel sure. If we had found him sooner, there might have been no mark upon his forehead. Then we, in our ignorance, would have called it heart disease, and poor Pearson would have had no avenger. After the storm, the cunning villain crept back, struck a match, and applied it to his victim’s temple. And but for an accident, we would all have agreed that he was killed by a lightning-stroke.”
Menard lays the head gently back upon the damp hay and asks, shudderingly:
“How did you discover it, Parks?”
“In examining the sear, you may remember, I brushed the hair away from the temple. As I ran my fingers through it, I touched—that.”
They look from one to the other silently for a moment, and then Joe Blakesly says:
“Has he been robbed?”
“Let us see;” Menard says, “he wore a money-belt, I know. Look for it, Parks.”
Parks examines the body, and shakes his head.
“I
• Illustrated book
• Images has been resized and optimized for the Nook
• Table of contents with working links to chapters is included
• The book has been corrected for spelling and grammatical errors
• New and improved version
•
“A nail! Touch it, boys; see the hellish cleverness of the crime; think what the criminal must be, to drive that nail home with one blow while poor Pearson lay sleeping, and then to rearrange the thick hair so skillfully. That was before the storm, I feel sure. If we had found him sooner, there might have been no mark upon his forehead. Then we, in our ignorance, would have called it heart disease, and poor Pearson would have had no avenger. After the storm, the cunning villain crept back, struck a match, and applied it to his victim’s temple. And but for an accident, we would all have agreed that he was killed by a lightning-stroke.”
Menard lays the head gently back upon the damp hay and asks, shudderingly:
“How did you discover it, Parks?”
“In examining the sear, you may remember, I brushed the hair away from the temple. As I ran my fingers through it, I touched—that.”
They look from one to the other silently for a moment, and then Joe Blakesly says:
“Has he been robbed?”
“Let us see;” Menard says, “he wore a money-belt, I know. Look for it, Parks.”
Parks examines the body, and shakes his head.
“I
Share
