Bøger af Fergus Hume

This novel is a classical murder mystery, written by Fergus Hume, a prolific British author

THE MAN WITH A SECRET "With anxious dread have I avoided thee, Thou haunting evil of my early days, Yet by some trick of Fate we meet again; I pray thee, sir, let me go far away. And place the roaring seas between us twain, There is but sorrow in our comradeship." It was the high road to the village of Garsworth, wide, deeply rutted, and somewhat grass-grown, with a tall hedge of yellow-blossomed gorse on the one side, and on the other a ragged, broken fence, over which leaned a man absorbed in meditation, his eyes fixed upon the setting sun. The fence, rotten and moss-tufted, ran along the edge of a little hill, the slope of which had been lately reaped, and was now covered with bristly yellow stubble, variegated by bare-looking patches of brownish earth. At the bottom of the hill flowed the narrow river Gar, with its sluggish waters rolling lazily along between the low mud banks, bordered by rows of pollard willows and lush rank grasses which hid the burrows of the water-rats. Beyond, towards the distant hills, stretched the damp, melancholy fen-lands, with their long lines of slimy ditches, still pools of black water, and scattered clumps of stunted trees. Still further away appeared a scanty fringe of forest, above which could be seen the square, grey tower of a church, and over all glared an angry red sky barred with thin lines of heavy clouds, looming intensely black against the accentuating crimson light behind. An evil-looking scene it was, for over the brooding loneliness and desolation of the fen-lands flared the fierce scarlet of the sunset, turning the slender line of the river and the sombre pools of water to the tint of blood, as though they had been smitten with the Egyptian plague. FERGUS HUME Fergusson Wright Hume (8 July 1859 - 12 July 1932), known as Fergus Hume, was a prolific English novelist. Hume was born in England, the second son of James Hume. When he was three the family emigrated to Dunedin, New Zealand, where he was educated at Otago Boys' High School and studied law at the University of Otago. He was admitted to the New Zealand bar in 1885. Shortly after graduation Hume relocated to Melbourne, Australia, where he obtained a job as a barristers' clerk. He began writing plays, but found it impossible to persuade the managers of Melbourne theatres to accept or even to read them. Finding that the novels of Émile Gaboriau were then very popular in Melbourne, Hume obtained and read a set of them and determined to write a novel of the same kind. The result was The Mystery of a Hansom Cab, set in Melbourne, with descriptions of poor urban life based on his knowledge of Little Bourke Street. It was self-published in 1886 and became a great success. Because he sold the British and American rights for 50 pounds, however, he reaped little of the potential financial benefit. It became the best-selling mystery novel of the Victorian era; in 1990 John Sutherland called it the "most sensationally popular crime and detective novel of the century". This novel inspired Arthur Conan Doyle to write A Study in Scarlet, which introduced the fictional consulting detective Sherlock Holmes. Doyle remarked, "Hansom Cab was a slight tale, mostly sold by 'puffing'." After the success of his first novel and the publication of another, Professor Brankel's Secret (c.?1886), Hume returned to England in 1888. He resided in London for a few years and then moved to the Essex countryside where he lived in Thundersley for 30 years. Eventually he produced more than 100 novels and short stories.

A man murdered -- shot through the heart In the quiet cathedral city of Beorminster, so unusual an event can only bring on dizzying excitement. Amateur detectives by the dozen gather on street corners to thrash out the problem -- and in public-houses, where they develop their most intricate theories over their beer. But now there appears in Beorminster the strangest figure: an elderly, weather-beaten man with the quick, alert eye of a fowl. For all he looks like a sailor, he calls himself a missionary -- saying he has labored these many years in the Lord's vineyard of the South Seas, and has returned to England for "a smack of civilization." He has the hoarse voice of a mariner accustomed to out-roar storms, but his conversation is oddly free of the colorful oaths of the nautical man. His name is Ben Baltic -- and his entrance marks the reader's first acquaintance with the most interesting and colorful of detectives created by Fergus Hume (1859-1932), author of "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab" and "The Secret Passage

Hagar of the Pawn-Shop is an unchanged, high-quality reprint of the original edition of 1899.Hansebooks is editor of the literature on different topic areas such as research and science, travel and expeditions, cooking and nutrition, medicine, and other genres. As a publisher we focus on the preservation of historical literature. Many works of historical writers and scientists are available today as antiques only. Hansebooks newly publishes these books and contributes to the preservation of literature which has become rare and historical knowledge for the future.

A young Englishman witnesses a murder committed in a deserted house, a murder of such a nature that presents the murderer as a supernatural being. Was the murder really the work of some supernatural forces or were there some earthly explanation?

Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. Lucian Denzil was a briefless barrister, who so far departed from the traditions of his brethren of the long robe as not to dwell within the purlieus of the Temple. For certain private reasons, not unconnected with economy, he occupied rooms in Geneva Square, Pimlico; and, for the purposes of his profession, repaired daily, from ten to four, to Serjeant's Inn, where he shared an office with a friend equally briefless and poor. This state of things sounds hardly enviable, but Lucian, being young and independent to the extent of £300 a year, was not dissatisfied with his position. As his age was only twenty-five, there was ample time, he thought, to succeed in his profession; and, pending that desirable consummation, he cultivated the muses on a little oatmeal, after the fashion of his kind. There have been lives less happily circumstanced. Geneva Square was a kind of backwater of the great river of town life which swept past its entrance with speed and clamour without disturbing the peace within. One long, narrow street led from a roaring thoroughfare into a silent quadrangle of tall grey houses, occupied by lodging-house keepers, city clerks and two or three artists, who represented the Bohemian element of the place. In the centre there was an oasis of green lawn, surrounded by rusty iron railings the height of a man, dotted with elms of considerable age, and streaked with narrow paths of yellow gravel.

This mystery is written by a famous British author Fergus Hume and deals with a mysterious message, a locked-up girl and a murder.

This scarce antiquarian book is a selection from Kessinger Publishing's Legacy Reprint Series. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment to protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature. Kessinger Publishing is the place to find hundreds of thousands of rare and hard-to-find books with something of interest for everyone!

Lord Prelice felt desperately bored. Like Xeres, he longed for some new pleasure, yet knew not where to look for one. This was the result of being surfeited with the sweets of extraordinary good fortune. Born to a title, endowed with passable good looks, gifted with abilities above the average, and possessed of admirable health, he should have been the happiest of men; the more especially as his income ran well into five figures, and he had the whole wide world to play with. Certainly he had played with it and with life, up to his present age of thirty-five years. Perhaps this was the reason of his acute boredom. If all work and no play makes Jack dull; all play and no work must necessarily make him blase. Therefore, in spite of the excellent breakfast spread before him on this bright summer morning, when London was looking at its best, the young man was ungratefully wondering what he could do to render life endurable. He ate from habit and not because he enjoyed his food; he read the morning papers, since it was necessary to be abreast of the times, for conversational purposes, although very little was new therein and still less was true. By the time he arrived at the marmalade stage of the meal he was again considering the possibilities of the next four and twenty hours. In this discontented frame of mind he was discovered by his aunt. Lady Sophia Haken bustled into the pleasant room exasperatingly cheerful, and very pleased with life in general and with herself in particular. She was an elderly woman of a somewhat masculine type who lived a simple out-of-door existence, and who proclaimed loudly that it was necessary for humanity to return to the Stone Age for true enjoyment. Having been riding in the Row for the last two hours, she entered in her habit, filled with the egotism of the early riser. As a near relative, she could not do less than scold Prelice for lingering over a late breakfast, and told him, -also as a near relative-that she scolded him for his good. She had done so very often before without result, and, but that she loved to lay down the law, would have long since given over the attempt to improve her nephew. Nevertheless, anxious to achieve the impossible, she attacked him with pristine vigor, as though aware for the first time of his bad habits. "Nine o'clock and still at breakfast," said Lady Sophia significantly, and slapped her skirts with a whip which she would have dearly liked to lay across her lazy nephew's broad shoulders. Prelice looked indolently at the clock, then at the table, and finally at his fuming aunt. "I cannot deny it," he said, with a yawn. "Is that all you have to say?" she asked, much disgusted. Prelice heaved a sigh. It was necessary to say something, if only to stem the coming tide of verbose speech. "How well you are looking." "Because I have been up since six o'clock." "How unwise; you will probably sleep all the afternoon." Lady Sophia snapped, tartly: "I shall do nothing of the sort." "Oh, very well," he assented, "you will do nothing of the sort. Anything for a quiet life, even agreement with the improbable." His aunt grasped her whip dangerously. "How exasperating you are!" "I was just thinking the same about you," confessed Prelice, good-humouredly; "it is so disagreeable for a late riser to be reminded of the time." And having folded his napkin, he lighted a cigarette. "How long is this going on?" demanded Lady Sophia fiercely. His imperturbability made her long to shake him thoroughly. "How long is what going on?" asked Prelice provokingly. "This idle, idiotic, insane, sensual, foolish, wicked, dilatory existence!" "Seven adjectives," murmured the young man, opening his eyes. "Waste, waste-oh, what waste!" "How long is this going on?" inquired his relative again, and whipped her skirts-instead of Prelice's back-with renewed vigour. He was forced to answer. "As long as I do, no doubt. What else is to be done, I should like to know?" "You shall know. Serve your country.

"Yes. I think it's a good idea, Freddy. And the perfume? Did Durwin or the Inspector tell you anything about the perfume? No, I can see by your blank stare that they didn't. Listen, Freddy, and store this knowledge in your blessed brain, my son. It is a clue, I am sure," and Halliday forthwith related to his attentive listener details concerning the strange perfume which had impregnated the clothes of the dead man. "And Sir Charles hated perfumes," he ended, emphatically; "he didn't even like Lillian or Mrs. Bolstreath to use them, and they obeyed him."

The Lost Parchment: A Detective Story is a novel written by Fergus Hume in 1914. The book follows the story of a young detective named Jack Tarling, who is tasked with investigating the mysterious disappearance of a valuable parchment. The parchment is said to contain a secret that could change the course of history, making it a highly sought-after item.As Jack delves deeper into the case, he discovers a web of deceit and betrayal that leads him to suspect everyone around him. His investigation takes him from the streets of London to the countryside, as he follows a trail of clues that eventually lead him to the truth.The Lost Parchment is a classic detective story that is full of suspense and intrigue. Hume's writing style is engaging and keeps the reader hooked until the very end. The novel is a must-read for fans of mystery and detective fiction, and is a great introduction to the works of Fergus Hume.This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the old original and may contain some imperfections such as library marks and notations. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern editions, that are true to their original work.

Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. "Hullo, Gore!" The young soldier stopped, started, colored with annoyance, and with a surprised expression turned to look on the other soldier who had addressed him. After a moment's scrutiny of the stranger's genial smile he extended his hand with pleased recognition. "Conniston," said he, "I thought you were in America." "So I am; so don't call me Conniston at the pitch of your voice, old boy. His lordship of that name is camping on Californian slopes for a big game shoot. The warrior who stands before you is Dick West of the -- Lancers, the old Come-to-the-Fronts. And what are you doing as an Imperial Yeoman, Gore?" "Not that name," said the other, with an anxious glance around. "Like yourself, I don't want to be known." "Oh! So you are sailing under false colors also?" "Against my will, Conniston-I mean West. I am Corporal Bernard." "Hum!" said Lord Conniston, with an approving nod. "You have kept your Christian name, I see." "It is all that remains of my old life," replied Gore, bitterly. "But your title, Conniston?" "Has disappeared," said the lancer, good-humoredly, "until I can make enough money to gild it." "Do you hope to do that on a private's pay?"

This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the original. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern editions that are true to the original work.

The Green Mummy: Large print by Fergus Hume Egyptologist Dr. Braddock expects a rare Incan mummy to be delivered to his small-town museum, but the sarcophagus that arrives contains the body of the man sent to bring the antiquity home.

The Yellow Holly is a novel written by Fergus Hume, first published in 1903. The story is set in England and follows the lives of two sisters, Violet and Lily, who are left penniless after the death of their father. Violet, the elder sister, is determined to make a better life for herself and her sister and decides to become a governess. Lily, on the other hand, is more interested in finding a wealthy husband.As Violet starts her new job, she meets a wealthy and handsome young man named Arthur Constant. The two quickly fall in love, but their happiness is short-lived when Arthur's father, a wealthy businessman, disapproves of their relationship. Meanwhile, Lily becomes involved with a man named Reginald, who is not as wealthy as she had hoped.As the story unfolds, secrets are revealed, and the lives of the sisters become increasingly complicated. The Yellow Holly is a tale of love, betrayal, and the struggle for financial security in a society where money and social status are highly valued. Hume's writing is engaging and vivid, and the characters are well-developed and relatable. The novel is a timeless classic that continues to captivate readers today.This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the old original and may contain some imperfections such as library marks and notations. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern editions, that are true to their original work.

"What IS your name?" "Susan Grant, Miss Loach." "Call me ma'am. I am Miss Loach only to my equals. Your age?" "Twenty-five, ma'am." "Do you know your work as parlor-maid thoroughly?" "Yes, ma'am. I was two years in one place and six months in another, ma'am. Here are my characters from both places, ma'am." As the girl spoke she laid two papers before the sharp old lady who questioned her. But Miss Loach did not look at them immediately. She examined the applicant with such close attention that a faint color tinted the girl's cheeks and she dropped her eyes. But, in her turn, by stealthy glances, Susan Grant tactfully managed to acquaint herself with the looks of her possible mistress. The thoughts of each woman ran as follows, - Miss Loach to herself. "Humph! Plain-looking, sallow skin, rather fine eyes and a slack mouth. Not badly dressed for a servant, and displays some taste. She might turn my old dresses at a pinch. Sad expression, as though she had something on her mind. Honest-looking, but I think a trifle inquisitive, seeing how she examined the room and is stealing glances at me. Talks sufficiently, but in a low voice. Fairly intelligent, but not too much so. Might be secretive. Humph!" The thoughts of Susan Grant. "Handsome old lady, probably nearly sixty. Funny dress for ten o'clock in the morning. She must be rich, to wear purple silk and old lace and lovely rings at this hour. A hard mouth, thin nose, very white hair and very black eyebrows. Got a temper I should say, and is likely to prove an exacting mistress. But I want a quiet home, and the salary is good. I'll try it, if she'll take me." Had either mistress or maid known of each other's thoughts, a conclusion to do business might not have been arrived at. As it was, Miss Loach, after a few more questions, appeared satisfied. All the time she kept a pair of very black eyes piercingly fixed on the girl's face, as though she would read her very soul. But Susan had nothing to conceal, so far as Miss Loach could gather, so in the end she resolved to engage her. "I think you'll do," she said nodding, and poking up the fire, with a shiver, although the month was June. "The situation is a quiet one. I hope you have no followers." "No, ma'am," said Susan and flushed crimson. "Ha!" thought Miss Loach, "she has been in love-jilted probably. All the better, as she won't bring any young men about my quiet house." "Will you not read my characters, ma'am?" Miss Loach pushed the two papers towards the applicant. "I judge for myself," said she calmly. "Most characters I read are full of lies. Your looks are enough for me. Where were you last?" "With a Spanish lady, ma'am!" "A Spanish lady!" Miss Loach dropped the poker she was holding, with a clatter, and frowned so deeply that her black eyebrows met over her high nose. "And her name?" "Senora Gredos, ma'am!" The eyes of the old maid glittered, and she made a clutch at her breast as though the reply had taken away her breath. "Why did you leave?" she asked, regaining her composure. Susan looked uncomfortable. "I thought the house was too gay, ma'am." "What do you mean by that? Can any house be too gay for a girl of your years?" "I have been well brought up, ma'am," said Susan quietly; "and my religious principles are dear to me. Although she is an invalid, ma'am, Senora Gredos was very gay. Many people came to her house and played cards, even on Sunday," added Susan under her breath. But low as she spoke, Miss Loach heard. "I have whist parties here frequently," she said drily; "nearly every evening four friends of mine call to play. Have you any objection to enter my service on that account?" "Oh, no, ma'am. I don't mind a game of cards. I play 'Patience' myself when alone. I mean gambling-there was a lot of money lost and won at Senora Gredos' house!

Fergusson Wright Hume (8 July 1859 - 12 July 1932), known as Fergus Hume, was a prolific English novelist. Finding that the novels of Émile Gaboriau were then very popular in Melbourne, Hume obtained and read a set of them and determined to write a novel of the same kind. The result was The Mystery of a Hansom Cab, set in Melbourne, with descriptions of poor urban life based on his knowledge of Little Bourke Street. It was self-published in 1886 and became a great success. Because he sold the British and American rights for 50 pounds, however, he reaped little of the potential financial benefit. It became the best-selling mystery novel of the Victorian era; in 1990 John Sutherland called it the most sensationally popular crime and detective novel of the century. This novel inspired Arthur Conan Doyle to write A Study in Scarlet, which introduced the fictional consulting detective Sherlock Holmes. Doyle remarked, Hansom Cab was a slight tale, mostly sold by puffing.

Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. It was about mid-day, and the train having emerged from the darkness of the St. Gothard tunnel, was now steaming rapidly on its winding line through the precipitous ravines of the Alps, under the hot glare of an August sun. On either side towered the mountains, their rugged sides of grey chaotic stone showing bare and bleak at intervals amid the dense masses of dark green foliage. Sometimes a red-roofed châlet would appear clinging swallow-like to the steep hill-side--then the sudden flash of a waterfall tumbling in sheets of shattered foam from craggy heights: high above, fantastic peaks swathed in wreaths of pale mist, and now and then the glimpse of a white Alpine summit, milky against the clear blue of the sky. On sped the engine with its long train of carriages, as though anxious to leave the inhospitable mountain land for the fertile plains of Italy--now crawling fly-like round the giant flank of a hill--anon plunging into the cool gloom of a tunnel--once more panting into the feverish heat--sweeping across slender viaducts hanging perilously over foaming torrents--gliding like a snake under towering masses of rock--and running dangerously along the verge of dizzy precipices, while white-walled, red-roofed, green-shuttered villages, shapeless rocks, delicately green forests, snow-clad peaks, and thread-like waterfalls flashed past the tired eyes of the passengers in the train with the rapidity of a kaleidoscope

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

Tracked by a Tattoo is a myystery Novel by Fergus Hume published in 1896.

The Lost Parchment by Fergus Hume is a mystery crime novel. One summer evening, Rupert Hendle, Squire of the English village of Barship, is visited by the Vicar, the Reverend Leigh. The clergyman has some terrible news to impart - during his researches into local history, he has uncovered an old will that disinherits the present Squire in favour of Rupert's misanthropic cousin, Mallien. But just as Rupert resigns himself to losing everything, the Vicar is found murdered in his study - and with the will missing, the Squire is the prime suspect... This is a Green Bird Publication of a quality soft cover.

Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. "Gypsies! How very delightful! I really must have my fortune told. The dear things know all about the future." As Mrs. Belgrove spoke she peered through her lorgnette to see if anyone at the breakfast-table was smiling. The scrutiny was necessary, since she was the oldest person present, and there did not appear to be any future for her, save that very certain one connected with a funeral. But a society lady of sixty, made up to look like one of forty (her maid could do no more), with an excellent digestion and a constant desire, like the Athenians of old, for "Something New!" can scarcely be expected to dwell upon such a disagreeable subject as death. Nevertheless, Mrs. Belgrove could not disguise from herself that her demise could not be postponed for many more years, and examined the faces of the other guests to see if they thought so too. If anyone did, he and she politely suppressed a doubtful look and applauded the suggestion of a fortune-telling expedition. "Let us make up a party and go," said the hostess, only too thankful to find something to amuse the house-party for a few hours. "Where did you say the gypsies were, Garvington?" "In the Abbot's Wood," replied her husband, a fat, small round-faced man, who was methodically devouring a large breakfast.

Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. Certain portions of England yet remain undiscovered by Americans and uncivilised by railways. Colester village above King's-meadows, in a county which need not be named, is one of these unknown spots. No doubt before long the bicycle and the motor-car will enliven its somnolent neighbourhood, but at present it is free from the summer jaunts of tourists. With this neglect the Colester folk profess themselves satisfied. They have no wish to come into contact with the busy world. This prejudice against intrusion dates from mediæval times, when strangers rarely came to the village with peaceful intentions. Even now a chance comer is looked upon with suspicion. Mr Richard Pratt said something of this sort to the vicar during a morning ramble, some six weeks after he had taken up his residence in The Nun's House. With the parson and the gentry of the parish Mr Pratt agreed very well, his respectability having been vouched for by Mrs Gabriel, the lady of the manor. But the villagers still held aloof, although the newcomer did his best to overcome their churlish doubts. They did not credit his story that he had settled in Colester to pass his remaining years in peace, and even the money he scattered so freely could not buy their loyalty. Pratt had never met with such people before. In most countries an open purse invites an open heart; but the Colester villagers were above Mammon worship. Such an experience was refreshing to Pratt, and introduced him to a new type of humanity.

The Crowned Skull is a mystery novel written by Fergus Hume. The story follows the investigation of a murder case that takes place in a wealthy household in London. The victim is a wealthy and influential man named Sir Charles Vandrift, who is found dead in his study with a strange symbol carved into his forehead.The investigation is led by Detective Gabriel Straight, who is determined to solve the case and bring the killer to justice. As he delves deeper into the case, he uncovers a web of lies, secrets, and betrayals that lead him to suspect everyone in the household, including Sir Charles' wife, his business partner, and even his own son.The plot is full of twists and turns, and the reader is kept guessing until the very end. The characters are well-developed, and their motives and actions are believable and realistic. The setting of the novel is also well-described, with vivid descriptions of the opulent lifestyle of the wealthy elite in Victorian London.Overall, The Crowned Skull is a gripping and entertaining mystery novel that will keep readers on the edge of their seats until the very end.You don't know?' repeated the coroner. 'Yet I presume you placed the skull on the table yourself so as to add to the effect of your fortune-telling?'This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the old original and may contain some imperfections such as library marks and notations. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern editions, that are true to their original work.

Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. "Poverty, naked and unconcealed! One can endure that, with some patience, as a beaten soldier in the battle of life. But genteel pauperism--the semi-poverty of the middle-class, that lives a necessary lie at the cost of incessant worry and constant defeat--there you have the true misery of life. Believe me, Cass, there is no torture like that of an ambition which cannot be attained for lack of money." "I did not know you were ambitious, Ellis." "Not of setting the Thames on fire. My desires are limited to a good practice, a moderate income, a home, and a wife to love me. These wishes are reasonable enough, Heaven knows, yet some cursed Fate prevents their realisation. And I have to sit down and wait; a doctor can do nothing else. I must listen with such philosophy as I have for the ring of the door bell to announce my first patient, and the ring never comes. The heart grows sick, the brain rusty, the money goes, the temper sours, and so I pass the best days of my life." "All things come to him who knows how to wait," said Cass, knocking the ashes out of a well-smoked briar.

Hume (1859-1932) was a prolific English novelist. Born in England, his family emigrated to New Zealand when he was three and it was here he was educated and admitted to the bar in 1885. Shortly after he relocated to Melbourne, Australia where he worked as a barrister's clerk and began writing plays without success. He then turned to mystery fiction and his first self-published work The Mystery of a Hansom Cab became the best-selling novel of the genre in the Victorian era. Hume returned to England in 1888 and went on to produce over 100 novels and stories. This work was first published in 1903.

When Denham decides to stay the night at the creepy Fen Inn, he is surprised to find his old friend Francis Briarfield a fellow-guest. He is even more surprised, upon waking the following day, to find the inn deserted and Briarfield murdered. The mystery deepens when Denham rushes to inform Briarfield's relatives - only to find his 'dead' friend alive and well. Is Denham mad? Or could the answer to the riddle have something to do with Briarfield's twin brother, Felix..?

Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. "Ah well, Miss Eva, I 'spose your pa'ull come home to spile things as he allays have done. It ain't no wonder, I ses, as you sits moping by the winder, looking double your age, and you only twenty, as has no right to look forty, whatever you may say, though I took my dying alfred-david on its blessed truth." This slightly incoherent and decidedly pessimistic speech was moaned, rather than spoken, by a lean-bodied, hard-faced, staring-eyed woman to a pretty girl, who did not look at the speaker. And small wonder. Mrs. Merry--inappropriate name--was unattractive to the eye. She was angular, grey-skinned, grey-eyed, grey-haired, and had thin, drooping lips almost as grey as the rest of her. In her black stuff gown--she invariably wore the most funereal dresses--with uneasy hands folded under a coarse apron, she stood before Eva Strode, uttering lamentations worthy of Jeremiah at his worst. But such dumpishness was characteristic of the woman. She delighted in looking on the black side of things, and the blacker they were, the more she relished them. Out of wrong-doing, and grief and things awry, she extracted a queer sort of pleasure, and felt never so happy as when the worst came to the worst. It seemed unfit that such a walking pageant of woe should be called Merry.

This early work by Fergus Hume was originally published in 1900 and we are now republishing it with a brand new introductory biography. 'The Lady from Nowhere' is a tale of murder by this famous mystery novelist. Fergusson Wright Hume was born on 8th July 1859 in England, the second son of Dr. James Hume. The family migrated to New Zealand where Fergus was enrolled at Otago Boys' High School, and later continued his legal and literary studies at the University of Otago. Hume returned to England in 1888 where he resided in London for a few years until moving to the Essex countryside. There he published over 100 novels, mainly in the mystery fiction genre, though none had the success of his debut work."

Hume was born in England, the second son of James Hume. When he was three the family emigrated to Dunedin, New Zealand, where he was educated at Otago Boys' High School and studied law at the University of Otago. He was admitted to the New Zealand bar in 1885. Shortly after graduation Hume relocated to Melbourne, Australia, where he obtained a job as a barristers' clerk. He began writing plays, but found it impossible to persuade the managers of Melbourne theatres to accept or even to read them.