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Reading books MYSTERY & CRIMEHowever, all readers - sooner or later - find for themselves a literary genre that is fundamentally different from all others.
An astonishing number of readers read mystery and crime.
The peculiarities of such constant attention to mystery and crime by the most diverse readership has been and remains the subject of numerous studies.
But seriously, a detective mystery should matted the reader. However, readers are very different: some try to guess who the killer is, others try to figure out the killer using mathematical methods, and others prefer to get pleasure only by turning the last page.
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The cornerstone of the reader's well-deserved interest mystery and crime is that the criminal is doomed to suffer the punishment he deserves. This is the logic of the detective form. Otherwise, the reader will be dissatisfied and even annoyed.
Naturally, you can’t create a perfect story of mystery and crime . The author must inevitably sacrifice something of his own, but he must have some higher value that would fundamentally distinguish him from other authors. The works of Hammett, Chandler, McDonald, Cain, Stout, containing such peculiar "Emeralds", from generation to generation remain interesting for millions of fans, young and old.


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Read books online » Mystery & Crime » The Darrow Enigma by Melvin L. Severy (best fiction novels of all time TXT) 📖

Book online «The Darrow Enigma by Melvin L. Severy (best fiction novels of all time TXT) 📖». Author Melvin L. Severy



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I saw that Maitland was waking, when I laid my hand

upon her head and asked her to dry her eyes lest he should notice her

tears.

 

“May I speak to him?” she said, with a look of resolution upon her

face. I could not divine her thoughts, as she smiled at me through

her tears, but I had no hesitancy in relying upon her judgment, so

I gave her permission and started to leave the room.

 

“Please don’t go,” she said to me. “I would prefer you should hear

what I have to say.” I=20reseated myself and Gwen drew near the

bedside. Maitland was now awake and following her every motion.

 

“I have something I want to say to you,” she said, bending over him.

“Do you feel strong enough to listen?” He nodded his head and she

continued. “You have already done a great deal for me, yet I come

to you now to ask a further favour, - I will not say a sacrifice

- greater than all the rest. Will you try to grant it?”

 

The rich, deep tones of her voice, vibrant with tender earnestness,

seemed to me irresistible.

 

“I will do anything in my power,” the invalid replied, never once

moving his eyes from hers.

 

“Then Heaven grant it be within your power!” she murmured, scarcely

above a whisper. “Try not to despise me for what I am about to say.

Be lenient in your judgment. My happiness, perhaps my very life,

depends upon this issue. I love you more than life; try to love me,

if only a little!”

 

I watched the effect of this declaration with a good deal of anxiety.

For fully half a minute Maitland seemed to doubt the evidence of his

senses. I saw him pinch himself to see if he were awake, and being

thus reassured, he said slowly: “Try - to - love - - you! In vain

have I tried not to love you from the moment I first saw you. Oh,

my God! how I adore you!” He reached his arms out toward her, and,

in a moment, they were locked in each other’s embrace.

 

I saw the first kiss given and then stole stealthily from the room.

There was now no need of a doctor. The weird, irresistible alchemy

of love was at work and the reign of medicine was over. I did not

wish to dim the newly found light by my shadow, and, - well, - I

wanted to see Jeannette, so I left.

 

I need not tell you, even though you are a bachelor, how fast

Maitland improved. Gwen would permit no one else to nurse him, and

this had much to do with the rapidity of his recovery. In a month

he was able to go out, and in another month Gwen became Mrs. Maitland.

A happier pair, or one better suited to each other, it has never

been my privilege to know. As I visited them in their new home I

became more and more dissatisfied with bachelor existence, and there

were times when I had half a mind to go straight to Jeannette and

ask her advice in the matter. Ah, those days! They will never come

to me again. Never again will a pink and white angel knock so loudly

at my heart, or be so warmly welcomed. I wonder where she is and if

she is thinking of me.

 

And now I may as well stop, for my narrative is over, and I hear

someone coming along the hail, doubtless after me. It is only

Harold, so I may add a word or two more. I am writing now with

difficulty, for some frolicsome individual has placed a hand over

my eyes and says, “Guess.” I can just see to write between the

fingers. Again I am commanded, ” Guess!” so I say carelessly,

“Alice.” Then, would you believe it, someone kisses me and

says: “Will you ever have done with that writing? The children

wish me to inform you that they have some small claim upon your

time.” You see how it is. I’ve got to stop, so I say, as becomes

an obedient gentleman: “Very well, I will quit upon one condition.

I have been wondering where on earth you were. Tell me what you

have been doing with yourself. I have been repeating in retrospect

all the horrors of bachelordom.”

 

“Why, Ned dear,” my wife replies, “I’ve only been down-town

shopping for Harold and little Jeannette. Bless me, I should think

I’d been gone a year!”

 

“Bless you, my dear Jeannette,” I reply; “I should think you had,”

and I draw her down gently into my lap and kiss her again and again

for the sake of the conviction it will carry. She says I am

smothering her, which means she is convinced.

 

You see I have learned some things since I was a bachelor.

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