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Thriller is a genre in literature. Thriller completely independent genre. Books of this genre are available now for your attention. We add new Thriller books to our e-library every day every day. Always interesting and instructive to read using our elibrary.
Only occasionally does a rather skillfully tailored product come off this “conveyor line” that really has any merit in order to stand out from the basically homogeneous literary mass. Our electronic library is full of thriller highlights.
“Thriller” is a modern term.
This genre is classified by causing a sudden outburst of emotion in the reader.
Thriller elements are present in many works of different genres. Thriller mix of fantasy and detective. Of course, reading thriller novels of high quality in terms of content and form of presentation is a very useful, informative and even, in some cases, instructive activity. However, the reader must understand in advance that sometimes a detailed description of many bloody fights, shootings and martial arts, the suffering of numerous victims, all kinds of confrontations can cause him a kind of rejection from further reading works of this genre of literature.


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Reading books RomanceReading books romantic stories you will plunge into the world of feelings and love. Most of the time the story ends happily. Very interesting and informative to read books historical romance novels to feel the atmosphere of that time.
In this genre the characters can be both real historical figures and the author's imagination. Thanks to such historical romantic novels, you can see another era through the eyes of eyewitnesses.
Critics will say that romance is too predictable. That if you know how it ends, there’s no point in reading it. Sorry, but no. It’s okay to choose between genres to get what you need from your books. But in romance the happy ending is a feature.It’s so romantic to describe the scene when you have found your True Love like in “fairytale love story.”



Reading thrillers facilitates to the formation of a person's sense of danger and makes him avoid such situations in every possible way in real life. At the same time, the reader can use the example of books to form his own line of behavior in real situations. Thrillers contribute to the development of the sixth sense - intuition. The reader will definitely remember the heroes of thrillers, because they operate in extreme circumstances and must include all means for survival. Filmmakers are always on the lookout for new releases in thriller. Scripts are created every day, that are even more sophisticated and dynamic. Based on these scenarios, new films will be screened, that attract tens of thousands of fans thriller genre. Therefore, each reader will be interested in how it was possible to embody the complexity of the plot on the screen, which is described in the original book. The great success of thrillers on the screen, the basis will still be a book.



You may also be interested in books of the MYSTERY & CRIME or HORROR genre


Read books online » Thriller » Mysterious Mr. Sabin by E. Phillips Oppenheim (read novel full .TXT) 📖

Book online «Mysterious Mr. Sabin by E. Phillips Oppenheim (read novel full .TXT) 📖». Author E. Phillips Oppenheim



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the only one—after my marriage. Just at first I was not very happy with your father. We had had a quarrel, I forget what about, and I sat down and wrote words which I have many a time bitterly repented ever having put on paper. I have never forgotten them—I never shall! I have seen them often in my happiest moments, and they have seemed to me to be written with letters of fire.”

“You have it back now? You have destroyed it?”

She shook her head wearily.

“No, I was to have had it when he had succeeded; I had not let him in five minutes when you disturbed us.”

“Tell me the man’s name.”

“Why?”

“I will get you the letter.”

“He would not give it you. You could not make him.”

Wolfenden’s eyes flashed with a sudden fire.

“You are mistaken,” he said. “The man who holds for blackmail over a woman’s head, a letter written twenty years ago, is a scoundrel! I will get that letter from him. Tell me his name!”

Lady Deringham shuddered.

“Wolfenden, it would bring trouble! He is dangerous. Don’t ask me. At least I have kept my word to him. It was not my fault that we were disturbed. He will not molest me now.”

“Mother, I will know his name!”

“I cannot tell it you!”

“Then I will find it out; it will not be difficult. I will put the whole matter in the hands of the police. I shall send to Scotland Yard for a detective. There are marks underneath the window. I picked up a man’s glove upon the library floor. A clever fellow will find enough to work upon. I will find this blackguard for myself, and the law shall deal with him as he deserves.”

“Wolfenden, have mercy! May I not know best? Are my wishes, my prayers, nothing to you?”

“A great deal, mother, yet I consider myself also a judge as to the wisest course to pursue. The plan which I have suggested may clear up many things. It may bring to light the real object of this man. It may solve the mystery of that impostor, Wilmot. I am tired of all this uncertainty. We will have some daylight. I shall telegraph to-morrow morning to Scotland Yard.”

“Wolfenden, I beseech you!”

“So also do I beseech you, mother, to tell me that man’s name. Great heavens!”

Wolfenden sprang suddenly from his chair with startled face. An idea, slow of coming, but absolutely convincing from its first conception, had suddenly flashed home to him. How could he have been so blind? He stood looking at his mother in fixed suspense. The light of his knowledge was in his face, and she saw it. She had been dreading this all the while.

“It was Mr. Sabin!—the man who calls himself Sabin!”

A little moan of despair crept out from her lips. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

CHAPTER XXX THE GATHERING OF THE WAR-STORM

Mr. Sabin, entering his breakfast-room as usual at ten o’clock on the following morning, found, besides the usual pile of newspapers and letters, a telegram, which had arrived too late for delivery on the previous evening. He opened it in leisurely fashion whilst he sipped his coffee. It was handed in at the Charing Cross Post Office, and was signed simply “K.”:—

“Just returned. When can you call and conclude arrangements? Am anxious to see you. Read to-night’s paper.—K.”

The telegram slipped from Mr. Sabin’s fingers. He tore open the St. James’s Gazette, and a little exclamation escaped from his lips as he saw the thick black type which headed the principal columns:—

“EXTRAORDINARY TELEGRAM OF THE GERMAN
EMPEROR TO MOENIG!

GERMAN SYMPATHY WITH THE REBELS! Warships Ordered to Delamere Bay!

Great Excitement on the Stock Exchange!”

Mr. Sabin’s breakfast remained untasted. He read every word in the four columns, and then turned to the other newspapers. They were all ablaze with the news. England’s most renowned ally had turned suddenly against her. Without the slightest warning the fire-brand of war had been kindled, and waved threateningly in our very faces. The occasion was hopelessly insignificant. A handful of English adventurers, engaged in a somewhat rash but plucky expedition in a distant part of the world, had met with a sharp reverse. In itself the affair was nothing; yet it bade fair to become a matter of international history. Ill-advised though they may have been, the Englishmen carried with them a charter granted by the British Government. There was no secret about it—the fact was perfectly understood in every Cabinet of Europe. Yet the German Emperor had himself written a telegram congratulating the State which had repelled the threatened attack. It was scarcely an invasion—it was little more than a demonstration on the part of an ill-treated section of the population! The fact that German interests were in no way concerned—that any outside interference was simply a piece of gratuitous impertinence—only intensified the significance of the incident. A deliberate insult had been offered to England; and the man who sat there with the paper clenched in his hand, whilst his keen eyes devoured the long columns of wonder and indignation, knew that his had been the hand which had hastened the long-pent-up storm. He drew a little breath when he had finished, and turned to his breakfast.

“Is Miss Sabin up yet?” he asked the servant, who waited upon him.

The man was not certain, but withdrew to inquire. He reappeared almost directly. Miss Sabin had been up for more than an hour. She had just returned from a walk, and had ordered breakfast to be served in her room.

“Tell her,” Mr. Sabin directed, “that I should be exceedingly obliged if she would take her coffee with me. I have some interesting news.”

The man was absent for several minutes. Before he returned Helène came in. Mr. Sabin greeted her with his usual courtesy and even more than his usual cordiality.

“You are missing the best part of the morning with your Continental habits,” she exclaimed brightly. “I have been out on the cliffs since half-past eight. The air is delightful.”

She threw off her hat, and going to the sideboard, helped herself to a cup of coffee. There was a becoming flush upon her cheeks—her hair was a little tossed by the wind. Mr. Sabin watched her curiously.

“You have not, I suppose, seen a morning paper—or rather last night’s paper?” he remarked.

She shook her head.

“A newspaper! You know that I never look at an English one,” she answered. “You wanted to see me, Reynolds said. Is there any news?”

“There is great news,” he answered. “There is such news that by sunset to-day war will probably be declared between England and Germany!”

The flush died out of her cheeks. She faced him pallid to the lips.

“It is not possible!” she exclaimed.

“So the whole world would have declared a week ago! As a matter of fact it is not so sudden as we imagine! The storm has been long brewing! It is we who have been blind. A little black spot of irritation has spread and deepened into a war-cloud.”

“This will affect us?” she asked.

“For us,” he answered, “it is a triumph. It is the end of our schemes, the climax of our desires. When Knigenstein came to me I knew that he was in earnest, but I never dreamed that the torch was so nearly kindled. I see now why he was so eager to make terms with me.”

“And you,” she said, “you have their bond?”

For a moment he looked thoughtful.

“Not yet. I have their promise—the promise of the Emperor himself. But as yet my share of the bargain is incomplete. There must be no more delay. It must be finished now—at once. That telegram would never have been sent from Berlin but for their covenant with me. It would have been better, perhaps, had they waited a little time. But one cannot tell! The opportunity was too good to let slip.”

“How long will it be,” she asked, “before your work is complete?”

His face clouded over. In the greater triumph he had almost forgotten the minor difficulties of the present. He was a diplomatist and a schemer of European fame. He had planned great things, and had accomplished them. Success had been on his side so long that he might almost have been excused for declining to reckon failure amongst the possibilities. The difficulty which was before him now was as trifling as the uprooting of a hazel switch after the conquest of a forest of oaks. But none the less for the moment he was perplexed. It was hard, in the face of this need for urgent haste, to decide upon the next step.

“My work,” he said slowly, “must be accomplished at once. There is very little wanted. Yet that little, I must confess, troubles me.”

“You have not succeeded, then, in obtaining what you want from Lord Deringham?”

“No.”

“Will he not help you at all?”

“Never.”

“How, then, do you mean to get at these papers of his?”

“At present,” he replied, “I scarcely know. In an hour or two I may be able to tell you. It is possible that it might take me twenty-four hours; certainly no longer than that.”

She walked to the window, and stood there with her hands clasped behind her back. Mr. Sabin had lit a cigarette and was smoking it thoughtfully.

Presently she spoke to him.

“You will get them,” she said; “yes, I believe that. In the end you will succeed, as you have succeeded in everything.”

There was a lack of enthusiasm in her tone. He looked up quietly, and flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette.

“You are right,” he said. “I shall succeed. My only regret is that I have made a slight miscalculation. It will take longer than I imagined. Knigenstein will be in a fever, and I am afraid that he will worry me. At the same time he is himself to blame. He has been needlessly precipitate.”

She turned away from the window and stood before him. She had a look in her face which he had seen there but once before, and the memory of which had ever since troubled him.

“I want you,” she said, “to understand this. I will not have any direct harm worked upon the Deringhams. If you can get what they have and what is necessary to us by craft—well, very good. If not, it must go! I will not have force used. You should remember that Lord Wolfenden saved your life! I will have nothing to do with any scheme which brings harm upon them!”

He looked at her steadily. A small spot of colour was burning high up on his pallid cheeks. The white, slender fingers, toying carelessly with one of the breakfast appointments, were shaking. He was very near being passionately angry.

“Do you mean,” he said, speaking slowly and enunciating every word with careful distinctness, “do you mean that you would sacrifice or even endanger the greatest cause which has ever been conceived in the heart of the patriot, to the whole skin of a household of English people? I wonder whether you realise the position as it stands at this moment. I am bound in justice to you to believe that you do not. Do you realise that Germany has closed with our offer, and will act at our behest; that only a few trifling sheets of paper stand between us and the fullest, the most glorious success? Is it a time, do you think, for scruples or for maudlin sentiment? If I were to fail in my obligations towards Knigenstein I should not only be dishonoured and disgraced, but our cause would be lost for ever. The work of many years would crumble into ashes. My own life would not be worth an hour’s purchase. Helène, you are mad! You are either mad, or worse!”

She faced him quite unmoved.

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