"The Captive"　Chapter One　She sat by the creek, half-hidden in lush grasses. Carefully she twined purple summer flowers into her single dark brown braid, and dabbled bare feet in the rushing water. Stems and crushed blooms littered the coarse yellow gown she wore and damp earth stained the garment, but she paid it no mind. She was purpose-fully intent on her work, for if she allowed her thoughts to range freely she would be overtaken by the knowledge and the hope that he still might e.　A songbird called from the forest behind and she glanced up, smiling at the delicate melody. Then her atten　

　　　　SUDDENLY THE child began to scream, piercing shrieks of terror that died down to shaking sobs, clutching at his mother so that his tiny ringers pinched her skin agonisingly through her flimsy summer dress.　　　　Veronica Jones grimaced in the deep green gloom of the reptile house, had to check herself from giving her five-year-old son one of her habitual cuffs across his head. She held him to her, closed her eyes momentarily, a human ostrich trying to hide her embarrassment from the ghostly white faces that turned in her direction. Trust the little sod to start playing up. You squandered a s　

　Chapter one　　He had been walking the dirty streets since twilight first began to gather. The pain streamed like liquid fire through every cell of his body - but he locked it away in a corner of his mind, ignored it, and walked.　There was little to please the eye in his surroundings, and he paid scant attention to them. He was on a small poor unimportant planet whose very name, Coranex, meant nothing to him. But around the spaceport clustered a drab, seedy town, which was a well-known stopover on the main space lanes. It attracted freightermen, traders, wandering technicians, space drifters o　

　　　　This story takes place in an America whose history is often similar to, but often quite different from our own. You should not assume that the portrayal in this book of a person who shares a name with a figure from American history is an accurate portrayal of that historical figure. In particular, you should be aware that William Henry Harrison, famed in our own history for having the briefest presidency and for his unforgettable election slogan "Tippecanoe and Tyler too," was a somewhat nicer person than his counterpart in this book.　　My thanks to Carol Breakstone for American Indian lor　

　　 When the office door opened suddenly I knew the game was up. It had been a money-maker-but it was all over. As the cop walked in I sat back in the chair and put on a happy grin. He had the same somber expression and heavy foot that they all have-and the same lack of humor. I almost knew to the word what he was going to say before he uttered a syllable.　 "James Bolivar diGriz I arrest you on the charge-"　 I was waiting for the word charge, I thought it made a nice touch that way. As he said it I pressed the button that set off the charge of black powder in the ceiling, the crossbea　

CHAPTER IBIRDS OF A FEATHER　　"YOUR mail, Mr. Rowden."　　"Ah, yes. Thank you."　　The switchboard operator passed a stack of envelopes to the man who stood in front of the lobby desk. Rowden smiled as he received the mail. He scanned the envelopes; then thrust them in his pocket and strolled into the elevator.　　The switchboard girl sighed as the door closed. It was not often that the Mallison Apartments received such debonair guests as Roke Rowden. Small and obscure in the midst of Manhattan, the Mallison catered chiefly to bargain-hunting tourists.　　Roke Rowden was a novelty. He had the beari　

　Neither do they expect trouble with a cargo that is sewn up tight.　Only a privileged few knew exactly when the Kruxator Collection would arrive in the country. That it was due to e to Britain was mon knowledge, and you had only to read a newspaper to discover that March 15th was the day on which the fabled group of paintings and jewellery were to go on display - for two weeks - at the Victoria and Albert Museum.　The Kruxator Collection is called after its founder, the late Niko Kruxator, whose fabulous wealth arose from sources unknown, for he had arrived penniless in the United States at a　

SHERLOCK HOLMESTHE ADVENTURE OF THE BRUCE-PARTINGTON PLANby Sir Arthur Conan DoyleIn the third week of November, in the year 1895, a dense yellow fogsettled down upon London. From the Monday to the Thursday I doubtwhether it was ever possible from our windows in Baker Street to seethe loom of the opposite houses. The first day Holmes had spent incross-indexing his huge book of references. The second and third hadbeen patiently occupied upon a subject which he had recently madehis hobby- the music of the Middle Ages. But when, for the fourth...　

A Psychological Counter-Current in Recent Fictionby William Dean HowellsIt is consoling as often as dismaying to find in what seems acataclysmal tide of a certain direction a strong drift to theopposite quarter. It is so divinable, if not so perceptible,that its presence may usually be recognized as a beginning of theturn in every tide which is sure, sooner or later, to come. Inreform, it is the menace of reaction; in reaction, it is thepromise of reform; we may take heart as we must lose heart fromit. A few years ago, when a movement which carried fiction to...　

THE COMPARISON OF LUCULLUS WITH CIMONby Plutarchtranslated by John DrydenONE might bless the end of Lucullus, which was so timed as to lethim die before the great revolution, which fate, by intestine wars,was already effecting against the established government, and to closehis life in a free though troubled commonwealth. And in this, aboveall other things, Cimon and he are alike. For he died also when Greecewas as yet undisordered, in its highest felicity; though in thefield at the head of his army, not recalled, nor out of his mind,...　

Ernest Miller Hemingway was born in 1899 at Oak Park, a highly respectable suburb of Chicago, where his father, a keen sportsman, was a doctor. He was the second of six children. The family spent holidays in a lakeside hunting lodge in Michigan, near Indian settlements. Although energetic and successful in all school activities, Ernest twice ran away from home before joining the Kansas City Star as a cub reporter in 1917. Next year he volunteered as an ambulance driver on the Italian front and was badly wounded. Returning to America he began to write features for the Toronto Star Weekly in 19　

PROPHETS AND KINGSby ELLEN G.WHITEProphets and Kings(9)FOREWORDTHE STORY Of PROPHETS AND KINGS IS THE SECOND IN A SERIES OF FIVE OUTSTANDING VOLUMES SPANNING SACRED HISTORY. IT WAS, HOWEVER, THE LAST BOOK OF THE SERIES TO BE WRITTEN, AND THE LAST OF MANY RICH WORKS TO COME FROM THE GIFTED PEN OF ELLEN G. WHITE. THROUGH HER SEVENTY YEARS OF SPEAKING AND WRITING IN AMERICA AND ABROAD, MRS. WHITE EVER KEPT BEFORE THE PUBLIC THE LARGER SIGNIFICANCE OF THE EVENTS OF HISTORY, REVEALING THAT IN THE AFFAIRS OF MEN ARE TO BE DETECTED THE UNSEEN INFLUENCES OF RIGHTEOUSNESS AND EVILTHE HAND OF GOD AND T　

The Diary of a Man of Fiftyby Henry JamesFlorence, April 5th, 1874.They told me I should find Italy greatlychanged; and in seven-and-twenty years there is room for changes.But to me everything is so perfectly the same that I seem to beliving my youth over again; all the forgotten impressions of thatenchanting time come back to me. At the moment they were powerfulenough; but they afterwards faded away. What in the world became ofthem? Whatever becomes of such things, in the long intervals ofconsciousness? Where do they hide themselves away? in what unvisited...　

SHERLOCK HOLMESTHE ADVENTURE OF THE NOBLE BACHELORby Sir Arthur Conan DoyleThe Lord St. Simon marriage, and its curious termination, havelong ceased to be a subject of interest in those exalted circles inwhich the unfortunate bridegroom moves. Fresh scandals have eclipsedit, and their more piquant details have drawn the gossips away fromthis four-year-old drama. As I have reason to believe, however, thatthe full facts have never been revealed to the general public, andas my friend Sherlock Holmes had a considerable share in clearing...　

THE BLACK THIEFAND KNIGHT OF THE GLEN.IN times of yore there was a King and a Queen in the south ofIreland who had three sons, all beautiful children; but theQueen, their mother, sickened unto death when they were yet veryyoung, which caused great grief throughout the Court, particularlyto the King, her husband, who could in no wise be comforted.Seeing that death was drawing near her, she called the King to herand spoke as follows:`I am now going to leave you, and as you are young and inyour prime, of course after my death you will marry again. Now...　

Marquise de Brinvilliersby Alexandre Dumas, PereTowards the end of the year 1665, on a fine autumn evening, there was a considerable crowd assembled on the Pont-Neuf where it makes a turn down to the rue Dauphine. The object of this crowd and the centre of attraction was a closely shut, carriage. A police official was trying to force open the door, and two out of the four sergeants who were with him were holding the horses back and the other two stopping the driver, who paid no attention to their commands, but only endeavoured to urge his horses to a gallop. The struggle had been going on