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Golden Stories A Selection of the Best Fiction by the Foremost Writers By: Various |
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Following each author's name was a notice: "All rights reserved." This
book is currently in the public domain, and the notices have been
removed, but are mentioned here in the interest of completeness. Many inconsistencies in spelling, punctuation, and hyphenation have been
normalized. Others remain as in the original. Any deviation from the
author's intent is solely the responsibility of the transcriber. This book seems to have been bound in two sections, each with stories
numbered I XII. Golden Stories
A SELECTION OF THE BEST FICTION
BY THE FOREMOST WRITERS
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
THE SHORT STORIES COMPANY
1909
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN
LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN COPYRIGHT, 1908 1909, BY THE SHORT STORIES COMPANY
I THE NIGHT EXPRESS The Story of a Bank Robbery By FRED M. WHITE
A PELTING rain volleyed against the great glass dome of the terminus, a
roaring wind boomed in the roof. Passengers, hurrying along the
platform, glistened in big coats and tweed caps pulled close over their
ears. By the platform the night express was drawn up a glittering mass
of green and gold, shimmering with electric lights, warm, inviting, and
cozy. Most of the corridor carriages and sleeping berths were full, for it was
early in October still, and the Scotch exodus was not just yet. A few
late comers were looking anxiously out for the guard. He came presently,
an alert figure in blue and silver. Really, he was very sorry. But the
train was unusually crowded, and he was doing the best he could. He was
perfectly aware of the fact that his questioners represented a Cabinet
Minister on his way to Balmoral and a prominent Lothian baronet, but
there are limits even to the power of an express guard, on the Grand
Coast Railway. "Well, what's the matter with this?" the Minister demanded. "Here is an
ordinary first class coach that will do very well for us. Now, Catesby,
unlock one of these doors and turn the lights on." "Very sorry, my lord," the guard explained, "but it can't be done. Two
of the carriages in the coach are quite full, as you see, and the other
two are reserved. As a matter of fact, my lord, we are taking a body
down to Lydmouth. Gentleman who is going to be buried there. And the
other carriage is for the Imperial Bank of Scotland. Cashier going up
north with specie, you understand." It was all plain enough, and disgustingly logical. To intrude upon the
presence of a body was perfectly impossible; to try and force the hand
of the bank cashier equally out of the question. As head of a great
financial house, the Minister knew that. A platform inspector bustled
along presently, with his hand to his gold laced cap. "Saloon carriage being coupled up behind, my lord," he said. The problem was solved. The guard glanced at his watch. It seemed to him
that both the bank messenger and the undertaker were cutting it fine.
The coffin came presently on a hand truck a black velvet pall lay over
it, and on the sombre cloth a wreath or two of white lilies. The door of
the carriage was closed presently, and the blinds drawn discreetly
close. Following behind this came a barrow in charge of a couple of
platform police. On the barrow were two square deal boxes, heavy out of
all proportion to their size. These were deposited presently to the
satisfaction of a little nervous looking man in gold rimmed glasses. Mr.
George Skidmore, of the Imperial Bank, had his share of ordinary
courage, but he had an imagination, too, and he particularly disliked
these periodical trips to branch banks, in convoy, so to speak. He took
no risks. "Awful night, sir," the guard observed. "Rather lucky to get a carriage
to yourself, sir. Don't suppose you would have done so only we're taking
a corpse as far as Lydmouth, which is our first stop." "Really?" Skidmore said carelessly. "Ill wind that blows nobody good,
Catesby. I may be overcautious, but I much prefer a carriage to myself... Continue reading book >>
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Short stories |
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