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Aladdin of London or, Lodestar   By: (1863-1950)

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First Page:

ALADDIN OF LONDON

Or

Lodestar

by

MAX PEMBERTON

Author of "The Hundred Days," "A Gentleman's Gentleman," "Doctor Xavier," "The Lady Evelyn," etc., etc.

Illustrated by Frank Parker

New York Empire Book Company Publishers

[Illustration: A very orgy of blood and slaughter; a carnival of whips. Page 198]

Copyright, 1907, by Max Pemberton. Entered at Stationers' Hall. All rights reserved.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. THE HALL BY UNION STREET 5

II. ALBAN KENNEDY MAKES A PROMISE 14

III. WITHOUT THE GATE 23

IV. THE CAVES 33

V. DISMISSAL 45

VI. THE STRANGER 56

VII. THE HOUSE OF THE FIVE GABLES 62

VIII. ALBAN KENNEDY DINES 71

IX. ANNA GESSNER 79

X. RICHARD GESSNER DEBATES AN ISSUE 90

XI. WHIRLWIND 109

XII. ALBAN SEES LIFE 121

XIII. ALBAN REVISITS UNION STREET 132

XIV. THERE ARE STRANGERS IN THE CAVES 145

XV. A STUDY IN INDIFFERENCE 152

XVI. THE INTRUDER 160

XVII. FATHER AND DAUGHTER 167

XVIII. FATE IRONICAL 182

XIX. THE PLOT HAS FAILED 192

XX. ALBAN GOES TO WARSAW 198

XXI. THE BOY IN THE BLUE BLOUSE 209

XXII. A FIGURE IN THE STRAW 224

XXIII. AN INSTRUCTION TO THE POLICE 231

XXIV. THE DAWN OF THE DAY 240

XXV. COUNT ZAMOYSKI SLEEPS 247

XXVI. AN INTERLUDE IN PICCADILLY 259

XXVII. THE PRISON YARD 268

XXVIII. THE MEETING 276

XXIX. ALBAN RETURNS TO LONDON 285

XXX. WE MEET OLD FRIENDS 294

XXXI. THE MAN UPON THE PAVEMENT 303

XXXII. IN THE NAME OF HUMANITY 307

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"You love another woman, Alban Kennedy, and you have wished to forget my daughter." 132

A very orgy of blood and slaughter; a carnival of whips. 198

"Why do you come here?" she asked him wildly. 267

ALADDIN OF LONDON

OR

LODESTAR

CHAPTER I

THE HALL BY UNION STREET

The orator was not eloquent; but he had told a human story and all listened with respect. When he paused and looked upward it seemed to many that a light of justice shone upon his haggard face while the tears rolled unwiped down his ragged jerkin. His lank, unkempt hair, caught by the draught from the open doors at the far end of the hall, streamed behind him in grotesque profusion. His hands were clenched and his lips compressed. That which he had told to the sea of questioning faces below him was the story of his life. The name which he had uttered with an oath upon his lips was the name of the man who had deprived him of riches and of liberty. When he essayed to add a woman's name and to speak of the wrongs which had been done her, the power of utterance left him in an instant and he stood there gasping, his eyes toward the light which none but he could see; a prayer of gratitude upon his lips because he had found the man and would repay.

Look down upon this audience and you shall see a heterogeneous assembly such as London alone of the cities can show you. The hall is a crazy building enough, not a hundred yards from the Commercial Road at Whitechapel. The time is the spring of the year 1903 the hour is eight o'clock at night. Ostensibly a meeting to discuss the news which had come that day from the chiefs of the Revolutionaries in Warsaw, the discussion had been diverted, as such discussions invariably are, to a recital of personal wrongs and of individual resolutions even to mad talk of the conquest of the world and the crowning of King Anarchy... Continue reading book >>




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