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239 pages

English

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May Agnes Fleming's deliciously devilish Sharing Her Crime opens with some unsavory characters hatching a nefarious plot. As the scheme gets underway, it begins to be clear that the carefully hatched plan will not be as simple as they thought. Will the crooks pull off their plan without being caught, or will justice prevail?

Informations

Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 mai 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776536832
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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SHARING HER CRIME
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MAY AGNES FLEMING

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Sharing Her Crime First published in 1882 Epub ISBN 978-1-77653-683-2 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77653-684-9 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - The Plotters Chapter II - The Death of Esther Chapter III - The Astrologer Chapter IV - Barry Oranmore Chapter V - Mount Sunset Hall Chapter VI - Lizzie's Lover Chapter VII - The Cypress Wreath Chapter VIII - Gipsy Chapter IX - A Storm at Mount Sunset Hall Chapter X - Miss Hagar Chapter XI - Gipsy Outwits the Squire Chapter XII - The Tigress and the Dove Chapter XIII - Gipsy Astonishes the Natives Chapter XIV - The Moonlight Flitting Chapter XV - The "Star of the Valley" Chapter XVI - Our Gipsy Chapter XVII - Gipsy's Return to Sunset Hall Chapter XVIII - Archie Chapter XIX - Gipsy's Daring Chapter XX - The Sailor Boy's Doom Chapter XXI - The Spider Weaves His Web Chapter XXII - Fetters for the Eaglet Chapter XXII - The Bird Caged Chapter XXIV - May and December Chapter XXV - Archie's Lost Love Chapter XXVI - Louis Chapter XXVII - Love at First Sight Chapter XXVIII - "The Old, Old Story" Chapter XXIX - The Rivals Chapter XXX - Gipsy Hunts New Game Chapter XXXI - Celeste's Trial Chapter XXXII - "The Queen of Song" Chapter XXXIII - A Startling Discovery Chapter XXXIV - Light in Darkness Chapter XXXV - The Death-Bed Confession Chapter XXXVI - Retribution Chapter XXXVII - Another Surprise Chapter XXXVIII - The Heiress of Sunset Hall Chapter XXXIX - "Last Scene of All"
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"A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a spirit still and bright, With something of an angel light."
Chapter I - The Plotters
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"'Tis a woman hard of feature, Old, and void of all good nature. 'Tis an ugly, envious shrew, Railing forever at me and you." —POPE.
It was Christmas Eve. All day long crowds of gayly dressed people hadwalked the streets, basking in the bright wintry sunshine. Sleigh aftersleigh went dashing past, with merrily jingling bells, freighted withrosy cheeks, and bright eyes, and youthful faces, all aglow withhappiness.
But the sun must set on Christmas Eve, as on all other days; and redly,threateningly, angrily, he sank down in the far west. Dark, sullenclouds came rolling ominously over the heavens; the wind blew piercinglycold, accompanied with a thin, drizzling rain that froze ere it fell.
Gradually the streets were deserted as the storm increased in fury; butthe Yule logs were piled high, the curtains drawn, and every house, save one , in the handsome street to which my story leads me, was allaglow, all ablaze with light.
In a lull of the storm the sounds of music and merry-making would riseand swell on the air, as light feet tripped merrily amid the mazes ofthe dance; or a silvery peal of laughter would break easily on thewayfarer's ear. The reflection of the light through the crimson curtainsshed a warm, rosy glow over the snowy ground, brightening the gloom ofthat stormy winter's night.
But rising dark, grim, and gloomy amid those gayly lighted mansions,stood a large, quaint building of dark-red sandstone. It stood byitself, spectral, shadowy, and grand. No ray of light came from thegloomy windows that seemed to be hermetically sealed. All around wasstern, black, and forbidding.
And yet—yes, from one solitary window there did stream a long, thinline of light. But even this did not look bright and cheerful like therest; it had a cold, yellowish glare, making the utter blackness of therest of the mansion blacker still by contrast.
The room from which the light issued was high and lofty. The uncarpetedfloor was of black polished oak, as also were the wainscoting andmantel. The walls were covered with landscape paper, representing thehideous Dance of Death, in all its variety of frightful forms. The highwindows were hung with heavy green damask, now black with dirt and age.A large circular table of black marble stood in one shadowy corner, anda dark, hard sofa, so long and black that it resembled a coffin, stoodin the other.
A smoldering sea-coal fire, the only cheerful thing in that gloomy room,struggled for life in the wide, yawning chimney. Now it would die away,enveloping the apartment in gloom, and anon flame fitfully up, until theghostly shadows on the wall would seem like a train of ghastly spectersflitting by in the darkness. The elm trees in front of the house trailedtheir long arms against the window with a sound inexpressibly dreary;and the driving hail beat clamorously, as if for admittance.
On either side of the fire-place stood two large easy-chairs, cushionedwith deep crimson velvet. In these, facing each other, sat twopersons—a man and a woman—the only occupants of the room.
The woman was tall, straight, and stiff, and seemingly about fifty yearsof age. Her dress was a rustling black satin, with a small crapehandkerchief fastened on her bosom with a magnificent diamond pin. Herhands, still small and white, were flashing with jewels as they layquietly folded in her lap. A widow's cap rested on her head, which wasalternately streaked with gray and jet. But her face—so stern, sorigid, no one could look upon it without a feeling of fear. The lips—sothin that she seemed to have no lips at all—were compressed with a lookof unswerving determination. Her forehead was low and retreating, withthick black eyebrows meeting across the long, sharp nose, with a look atonce haughty and sinister. And from under those midnight brows glitteredand gleamed a pair of eyes so small, so sharp and keen—with such a lookof cold, searching, steely brightness—that the boldest gaze mightwell quail before them. On that grim, hard face no trace of womanlyfeeling seemed ever to have lingered—all was stern, harsh, andfreezingly cold. She sat rigidly erect in her chair, with herneedle-like eyes riveted immovably on the face of her companion, whoshifted with evident uneasiness beneath her uncompromising stare.
He was a man of forty, or thereabouts, so small of stature that,standing side by side, he could scarcely have reached the woman'sshoulder. But, notwithstanding his diminutive size, his limbs weredisproportionately large for his body, giving him the appearance ofbeing all legs and arms. His little, round bullet-head was set on aprodigiously thick, bull-like neck; and his hair, short, and bristlingup over his head, gave him very much the look of the sun, as pictured inthe almanacs.
This prepossessing gentleman was arrayed in an immaculate suit of black,with a spotless white dickey, bristling with starch and dignity, and amost excruciating cravat. Half a dozen rings garnished his claw-likehands, and a prodigious quantity of watch-chain dangled from his vest.The worthy twain were engaged in deep and earnest conversation.
"Well, doctor," said the lady, in a cold, measured tone, that wasevidently habitual, "no doubt you are wondering why I sent for you insuch haste to-night."
"I never wonder, madam," said the doctor, in a pompous tone—which,considering his size, was quite imposing. "No doubt you have someexcellent reason for sending for me, which, if necessary for me to know,you will explain."
"You are right, doctor," said the lady, with a grim sort of smile. "I have an excellent reason for sending for you. You are fond of money, Iknow."
"Why, madam, although it is the root of all evil—"
"Tush, man! There is no need for Satan to quote Scripture just now," sheinterrupted with a sneer. "Say, doctor, what would you do to earn fivehundred dollars to-night?"
"Five hundred dollars?" said the doctor, his small eyes sparkling, whilea gleam of satisfaction lighted up his withered face.
"Yes," said the lady, "and if well done, I may double the sum. Whatwould you do for such a price?"
"Rather ask me what I would not do."
"Well, the job is an easy one. 'Tis but to—"
She paused, and fixed her eyes on his face with such a wild sort ofgleam that, involuntarily, he quailed before her.
"Pray go on, madam. I'm all attention," he said, almost fearing to breakthe dismal silence. "'Tis but to— what ?"
"Make away with—a woman and child!"
"Murder them?" said the doctor, involuntarily recoiling.
"Do not use that word!" she said, sharply. "Coward! do you really blanchand draw back! Methought one of your profession would not hesitate tosend a patient to heaven."
"But, madam," said the startled doctor, "you know the penalty which thelaw awards for murder."
"Oh, I perceive," said the woman, scornfully, "it is not the crime youare thinking of, but your own precious neck. Fear not, my good friend;there is no danger of its ever being discovered."
"But, my dear madam," said the doctor, glancing uneasily at the stern,bitter face before him, "I have not the nerve, the strength, northe—"
" Courage! " she broke in, passionately. "Oh, craven—weak,chicken-hearted, miserable craven! Go, then—leave me, and I will do itmyself. You dare not betray me—you could not without bringing yourneck to the halter—so I fear you not. Oh, coward! coward! why did notheaven make me a man?"
In her fierce outburst of passion she arose to her feet, and her tallfigure loomed up like some unnaturally large, dark shadow. The manquailed in fear before her.
"Go!" she said, fiercely, pointing to the door, "You have refused to share my crime . Go! poor cowardly poltroon! but remember, MadgeOranmore never forgives nor forgets!"
"But, my dear Mrs. Oranmore, just liste