akorn - Mighty Old Tales Retold

The Secret of Chimneys - Ch 5 - Agatha Christie

The Secret of Chimneys - Ch 5
Agatha Christie
There is often a flaw in the best-laid plans. George Lomax had made one mistake—there was a weak spot in his preparations. The weak spot was Bill.Bill Eversleigh was an extremely nice lad. He was a good cricketer and a scratch golfer, he had pleasant manners, and an amiable disposition, but his position in the Foreign Office had been gained, not by brains, but by good connexions. For the work he had to do he was quite suitable. He was more or less George’s dog. He did no responsible or brainy work. His part was to be constantly at George’s elbow, to interview unimportant people whom George didn’t want to see, to run errands, and generally to make himself useful. All this Bill carried out faithfully enough. When George was absent, Bill stretched himself out in the biggest chair and read the sporting news, and in so doing he was merely carrying out a time-honoured tradition.

The Secret of Chimneys - Ch 4 - Agatha Christie

The Secret of Chimneys - Ch 4
Agatha Christie
George Lomax returned straightway to Whitehall. As he entered the sumptuous apartment in which he transacted affairs of State, there was a scuffling sound.Mr. Bill Eversleigh was assiduously filing letters, but a large armchair near the window was still warm from contact with a human form.A very likeable young man, Bill Eversleigh. Age at a guess, twenty-five, big and rather ungainly in his movements, a pleasantly ugly face, a splendid set of white teeth and a pair of honest brown eyes.“Richardson sent up that report yet?”“No, sir. Shall I get on to him about it?”“It doesn’t matter. Any telephone messages?”“Miss Oscar is dealing with most of them. Mr. Isaacstein wants to know if you can lunch with him at the Savoy tomorrow.”“Tell Miss Oscar to look in my engagement book. If I’m not engaged, she can ring up and accept.”“Yes, sir.”“By the way, Eversleigh, you might ring up a number for me now. Look it up in the book. Mrs. Revel, 487 Pont Street.”

The Secret of Chimneys - Ch 3 - Agatha Christie

The Secret of Chimneys - Ch 3
Agatha Christie
Quite so, my dear fellow, quite so,” said Lord Caterham.He had used the same words three times already, each time in the hope that they would end the interview and permit him to escape. He disliked very much being forced to stand on the steps of the exclusive London club to which he belonged and listen to the interminable eloquence of the Hon. George Lomax.Clement Edward Alistair Brent, ninth Marquis of Caterham, was a small gentleman, shabbily dressed, and entirely unlike the popular conception of a marquis. He had faded blue eyes, a thin melancholy nose,and a vague but courteous manner.

The Secret of Chimneys - Ch 2 - Agatha Christie

The Secret of Chimneys - Ch 2
Agatha Christie
“So that’s that,” said Anthony, finishing off his glass and replacing it on the table. “What boat were you going on?”“Granarth Castle.”“Passage booked in your name, I suppose, so I’d better travel as James McGrath. We’ve outgrown the passport business, haven’t we.“No odds either way. You and I are totally unlike, but we’d probably have the same description on one of those blinking things. Height six feet, hair brown, eyes blue, nose ordinary, chin ordinary—”“Not so much of this ‘ordinary’ stunt. Let me tell you that Castle’s selected me out of several applicants solely on account of my pleasing appearance and nice manners.”Jimmy grinned.“I noticed your manners this morning.”“The devil you did.”Anthony rose and paced up and down the room. His brow was slightly wrinkled, and it was some minutes before he spoke.“Jimmy,” he said at last. “Stylptitch died in Paris. What’s the point of sending a manuscript from Paris to London via Africa?”Jimmy shook his head helplessly.“I don’t know.”“Why not do it up in a nice little parcel and send it by post?”“Sounds a damn sight more sensible, I agree.”

The Secret of Chimneys - Ch 1 - Agatha Christie

The Secret of Chimneys - Ch 1
Agatha Christie
“Gentleman Joe!”“Why, if it isn’t old Jimmy McGrath.”Castle’s Select Tour, represented by seven depressed-looking females and three perspiring males, looked on with considerable interest. Evidently their Mr. Cade had met an old friend. They all admired Mr. Cade so much, his tall lean figure, his suntanned face, the lighthearted manner with which he settled disputes and cajoled them all into good temper. This friend of his now—surely rather a peculiar-looking man. About the same height as Mr. Cade, but thickset and not nearly so good-looking. The sort of man one read about in books, who probably kept a saloon. Interesting though. After all, that was what one came abroad for—to see all these peculiar things one read about in books. Up to now they had been rather bored with Bulawayo. The sun was unbearably hot, the hotel was uncomfortable, there seemed to be nowhere particular to go until the moment should arrive to motor to the Matoppos. Very fortunately, Mr. Cade had suggested picture postcards. There was an excellent supply of picture postcards.Anthony Cade and his friend had stepped a little apart.

The Time Machine - Chs X, XI, XII - H G Wells - THE END

The Time Machine - Chs X, XI, XII - THE END
H G Wells 
About eight or nine in the morning I came to the same seat of yellow metal from which I had viewed the world upon the evening of my arrival. I thought of my hasty conclusions upon that evening and could not refrain from laughing bitterly at my confidence. Here was the same beautiful scene, the same abundant foliage, the same splendid palaces and magnificent ruins, the same silver river running between its fertile banks. The gay robes of the beautiful people moved hither and thither among the trees. Some were bathing in exactly the place where I had saved Weena, and that suddenly gave me a keen stab of pain. And like blots upon the landscape rose the cupolas above the ways to the Under-world. I understood now what all the beauty of the Over-world people covered. Very pleasant was their day, as pleasant as the day of the cattle in the field. Like the cattle, they knew of no enemies and provided against no needs. And their end was the same.

The Time Machine - Ch IX - H G Wells

The Time Machine - Ch IX
H G Wells
We emerged from the palace while the sun was still in part above the horizon. I was determined to reach the White Sphinx early the next morning, and ere the dusk I purposed pushing through the woods that had stopped me on the previous journey. My plan was to go as far as possible that night, and then, building a fire, to sleep in the protection of its glare. Accordingly, as we went along I gathered any sticks or dried grass I saw, and presently had my arms full of such litter. Thus loaded, our progress was slower than I had anticipated, and besides Weena was tired. And I began to suffer from sleepiness too; so that it was full night before we reached the wood. Upon the shrubby hill of its edge Weena would have stopped, fearing the darkness before us; but a singular sense of impending calamity, that should indeed have served me as a warning, drove me onward.

The Time Machine - Ch VIII - H G Wells

The Time Machine - Ch VIII
H G Wells
I found the Palace of Green Porcelain, when we approached it about noon, deserted and falling into ruin. Only ragged vestiges of glass remained in its windows, and great sheets of the green facing had fallen away from the corroded metallic framework. It lay very high upon a turfy down, and looking north-eastward before I entered it, I was surprised to see a large estuary, or even creek, where I judged Wandsworth and Battersea must once have been. I thought then—though I never followed up the thought—of what might have happened, or might be happening, to the living things in the sea.

The Time Machine - Chs VI and VII - H G Wells

The Time Machine - Chs VI and VII
H G Wells
It may seem odd to you, but it was two days before I could follow up the new-found clue in what was manifestly the proper way. I felt a peculiar shrinking from those pallid bodies. They were just the half-bleached colour of the worms and things one sees preserved in spirit in a zoological museum. And they were filthily cold to the touch. Probably my shrinking was largely due to the sympathetic influence of the Eloi, whose disgust of the Morlocks I now began to appreciate.

The Time Machine - Ch V - H G Wells

The Time Machine - Ch V
H G Wells
As I stood there musing over this too perfect triumph of man, the full moon, yellow and gibbous, came up out of an overflow of silver light in the north-east. The bright little figures ceased to move about below, a noiseless owl flitted by, and I shivered with the chill of the night. I determined to descend and find where I could sleep.'I looked for the building I knew. Then my eye travelled along to the figure of the White Sphinx upon the pedestal of bronze, growing distinct as the light of the rising moon grew brighter. I could see the silver birch against it. There was the tangle of rhododendron bushes, black in the pale light, and there was the little lawn. I looked at the lawn again. A queer doubt chilled my complacency. "No," said I stoutly to myself, "that was not the lawn."'But it was the lawn. For the white leprous face of the sphinx was towards it. Can you imagine what I felt as this conviction came home to me? But you cannot. The Time Machine was gone!