The Forsaken Inn E-Book

Anna Katharine Green

• Herausgeber: Anna Katharine Green
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

Anna Katharine Green (November 11, 1846 – April 11, 1935) was an American poet and novelist. She was one of the first writers of detective fiction in America and distinguished herself by writing well plotted, legally accurate stories. Green has been called "the mother of the detective novel”.

Leseprobe

The Forsaken Inn

by

Anna Katharine Green

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Part I.

The Oak Parlor.

Burritt.

A Fearful Discovery.

Questions and Answers.

An Interim of Suspense.

Part II.

An Old Albany Romance.

The Recluse.

Two Women.

A Sudden Betrothal.

Marah.

At the Foot of the Stairs.

Honora.

Edwin Urquhart.

Before the Wedding.

A Cassandra at the Gate.

The Catastrophe.

A Dream Ended.

Part III.

Retribution.

Strange Guests.

Mrs. Truax Talks.

In the Halls at Midnight.

The Stone in the Garden.

In the Oak Parlor.

A Surprise for Honora.

In the Secret Chamber.

The Marquis.

Mark Felt.

For the Last Time.

A Last Word.

Chapter 1

The Oak Parlor.

I was riding between Albany and Poughkeepsie. It was raining furiously, and my horse, already weary with long travel, gave unmistakable signs of discouragement. I was, therefore, greatly relieved when, in the most desolate part of the road, I espied rising before me the dim outlines of a house, and was correspondingly disappointed when, upon riding forward, I perceived that it was but a deserted ruin I was approaching, whose fallen chimneys and broken windows betrayed a dilapidation so great that I could scarcely hope to find so much as a temporary shelter therein.

Nevertheless, I was so tired of the biting storm that I involuntarily stopped before the decayed and forbidding structure, and was, in truth, withdrawing my foot from the stirrup, when I heard an unexpected exclamation behind me, and turning, saw a chaise, from the open front of which leaned a gentleman of most attractive appearance.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Hide my head from the storm,” was my hurried rejoinder. “I am tired, and so is my horse, and the town, according to all appearances, must be at least two miles distant.”

“No matter if it is three miles! You must not take shelter in that charnel-house,” he muttered; and moved along in his seat as if to show me there was room beside him.

“Why,” I exclaimed, struck with sudden curiosity, “is this one of the haunted houses we hear of? If so, I shall certainly enter, and be much obliged to the storm for driving me into so interesting a spot.” I thought he looked embarrassed. At all events, I am sure he hesitated for a moment whether or not to ride on and leave me to my fate. But his better impulses seemed to prevail, for he suddenly cried: “Get in with me, and leave mysteries alone. If you want to come back here after you have learned the history of that house, you can do so; but first ride on to town and have a good meal. Your horse will follow easily enough after he is rid of your weight.”