False Evidence E-Book

E. Phillips Oppenheim

• Herausgeber: E. Phillips Oppenheim
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

False Evidence written by English novelist E. Phillips Oppenheim.  This book is one of many works by him. It has already Published in 1896. Now republish in ebook format. We believe this work is culturally important in its original archival form. While we strive to adequately clean and digitally enhance the original work, there are occasionally instances where imperfections such as blurred or missing pages, poor pictures or errant marks may have been introduced due to either the quality of the original work. Despite these occasional imperfections, we have brought it back into print as part of our ongoing global book preservation commitment, providing customers with access to the best possible historical reprints. We appreciate your understanding of these occasional imperfections, and sincerely hope you enjoy reading this book. 

Leseprobe

False Evidence

By

E. Phillips Oppenheim

Table of Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER I. MY APOLOGY

CHAPTER II. THE FIRST CLOUD

CHAPTER III. "THE BOY MUST BE TOLD"

CHAPTER IV. "A MYSTERIOUS MEETING"

CHAPTER V. "ON BOSSINGTON HEADLAND"

CHAPTER VI. AN INTERRUPTED ADDRESS

CHAPTER VII. "I AM TOLD"

CHAPTER VIII. "MY VOW"

CHAPTER IX. AN UNEXPECTED VISIT

CHAPTER X. THE FIRST MOVE

CHAPTER XI. COLONEL DEVEREUX'S LAND AGENT

CHAPTER XII. AT DEVEREUX COURT

CHAPTER XIII. COLONEL SIR FRANCIS DEVEREUX, BART.

CHAPTER XIV. THE BEGINNING OF DANGER

CHAPTER XV. A FIGHT FOR LIFE

CHAPTER XVI. MY CONVALESCENCE

CHAPTER XVII. A MOONLIGHT RIDE

CHAPTER XVIII. A STRANGE INTERVIEW

CHAPTER XIX. MARIAN SURPRISES ME

CHAPTER XX. AMONGST THE BULRUSHES

CHAPTER XXI. RUPERT DEVEREUX

CHAPTER XXII. FACE TO FACE

CHAPTER XXIII. IN THE PICTURE GALLERY

CHAPTER XXIV. A MIDNIGHT VISITOR

CHAPTER XXV. "COUSINS!"

CHAPTER XXVI. I "GIVE WARNING"

CHAPTER XXVII. SIR FRANCIS DEVEREUX'S APPEAL

CHAPTER XXVIII. GOOD-BYE TO DEVEREUX COURT

CHAPTER XXIX. I AM TEMPTED

CHAPTER XXX. LIAR AND COWARD

CHAPTER XXXI. MY FATHER AND I

CHAPTER XXXII. THE BRIGANDS' HOME

CHAPTER XXXIII. AT PALERMO

CHAPTER XXXIV. VISITORS FROM ROME

CHAPTER XXXV. WE ENTERTAIN AT THE VILLA

CHAPTER XXXVI. MR. BURTON LEIGH

CHAPTER XXXVII. CUT DOWN

CHAPTER XXXVIII. AN OMINOUS NOTE

CHAPTER XXXIX. "MY FATHER'S RESOLUTION"

CHAPTER XL. A HORRIBLE MISTAKE

CHAPTER XLI. "TWO YEARS AFTER"

CHAPTER XLII. A TRAITOROUS LOVE

CHAPTER XLIII. EXPIATION

CHAPTER XLIV. "HERO"

"They sprang after me, but started back with a quick exclamation, for they looked into the black muzzle of my father's revolver." (Chapter XXXVII.)

PROLOGUE

The last sally had been made and repulsed, the last shot fired; the fight was over, and victory remained with the white men. And yet, after all, was it a victory or a massacre? If you were a stay-at-home, and read the report from the telegrams in your club, or in the triumphant columns of the daily papers, especially those on the side of the Ministry, you would certainly have pronounced it the former. But if you had been there on the spot, and had seen the half-naked, ill-armed natives, with the fire of patriotism blazing in their eyes and leaping in their hearts—had seen them being shot down in rows by the merciless guns of the English batteries—another view of the matter might have presented itself to you. It might have occurred to you that these men were fighting on their own soil for their freedom and their country, and that the spirit which was blinding their eyes to the hopelessness of resistance, and urging them on to resist the stranger's progress with such passionate ineffectiveness, was after all, a natural and a poetic one. But, after all, this has nothing to do with my story.

The battle was over, and it was morning. Far away in the east a dull red light had arisen from over the tops of the towering black mountains, and an angry sun was sullenly shining on the scene of carnage. It was a low hillside, once pleasant enough to look upon, but at that moment probably the most hideous sight which the whole universe could have shown. The silvery streams, which had trickled lazily down to the valley below, now ran thick and red with blood. The luxuriant shrubs and high waving ferns were trampled down and disfigured, and, most horrible sight of all, everywhere were strewn the copper-coloured forms of the beaten natives. There they lay apart and in heaps in all imaginable postures, and with all imaginable expressions on their hard, battered faces. Some lay on their sides with their fingers locked around their spears, and the rigid frown and convulsed passion of an undying hatred branded on their numbed features. Others less brave had been shot in the back whilst flying from the death-dealing fire of the European guns, and lay stretched about in attitudes which in life would have been comical, but in death were grotesquely hideous; and over the sloping fields the misty clouds of smoke still lingered and curled upwards from the battered extinct shells which lay thick on the ground.