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Sax Rohmer, master writer of stories of mystery and horror, adds to his already notable group of scoundrels and heroes, which includes the unforgettable Dr. Fu Manchu, a striking and colorful new character- Bimbashi Baruk, of the renowned Camel Corps in Africa. Born of an Arab sheik and an English mother, this tall, slender, swarthy, taciturn man was singled out by the British Military Intelligence for his uncanny power of scenting crime and bringing the criminal into the open. The scene of the book is England and the Near East, particularly Syria, Persia, Egypt, and Afghanistan, with their crowded, labyrinthine and treacherous thoroughfares, which Sax Rohmer knows so well.
There was sincerity in the appeal, spoken in the softest, most silvern tone which he had ever heard. He stood beside the veiled woman, and met the glance of her dark eyes with a consciousness of some magnetic force in the glance which seemed to set his nerves quivering.
Rohmer's supernatural stories include BROOD OF THE WITCH QUEEN (1918), in which an Egyptian mummy is revived to practise ancient sorcery in the modern world, and THE GREEN EYES OF BÂST (1920), an occult detective tale about the mysteries of ancient Egypt. Between these two books, Sax Rohmer wrote DOPE, a mystery set in the midst of Chinatown and the opium trade that found its way to London. An eye-opening mystery a la Sax Rohmer!
Ten stories featuring perhaps the most fantastic sleuth of them all: Moris Klaw, the Dream Detective. Accompanied by his beautiful daughter Isis, Klaw's mysterious abilities lead him to clues and answers concerning occult occurrances far beyond the ken of ordinary minds.
An impossible murder, an occult detective tale, and a tale within a tale -- with a solution suggested by Harry Houdini.
The Golden Scorpion linked the story lines developed in the Yellow Claw (1915) with Dr. Fu Manchu who appears but is not named. "He wore a plain yellow robe and had a little black cap on his head. His face, his wonderful evil face I can never forget, and his eyes -- I fear you will think I exaggerate -- but his eyes were green as emeralds!"
Psychic investigator Dr. Damar Greefe encounters ancient sorceryand a cult whose leader is possessed by the murderous cat-goddess Bast!
“There’s Low Fennel,” said Major Dale. We pulled up short on the brow of the hill. Before me lay a little valley carpeted with heather, purple slopes hemming it in. A group of four tall firs guarded the house, which was couched in the hollow of the dip—a low, rambling building, in parts showing evidence of great age and in other parts of the modern improver. “That’s the new wing,” continued the Major, raising his stick; “projecting out this way. It’s the only addition I’ve made to the house, which, as it stood, had insufficient accommodation for the servants.” “It is a quaint old place.” “It is, and I’m loath to part with it, especially as it means a big loss.” “Ah! Have you formed any theories since wiring me?” “None whatever. I’ve always been a sceptic, Addison, but if Low Fennel is not haunted, I’m a Dutchman, by the Lord Harry!” I laughed reassuringly, and the two of us descended the slope to the white gate giving access to a trim gravel path flanked by standard roses. Mrs. Dale greeted us at the door. She was, as I had heard, much younger than the Major, and a distinctly pretty woman. In so far Dame Rumour was confirmed; other things I had heard of her, but I was not yet in a position to pass judgment. She greeted me cordially enough, although women are usually natural actresses. I thought that she did not suspect the real object of my visit. Tea was served in a delightful little drawing-room which bore evidence of having but recently left the hands of London decorators, but when presently I found myself alone with my host in the Major’s peculiar sanctum, the real business afoot monopolized our conversation.
The book begins: I was not the only passenger aboard the s.s. Mandalay who perceived the disturbance and wondered what it might portend and from whence proceed. A goodly number of passengers were joining the ship at Port Said. I was lounging against the rail, pipe in mouth, lazily wondering, with a large vagueness. See other titles by this author available from Kessinger Publishing.
Excerpt:
"There's half a score of your ancestral halls," said Julius Rohscheimer, "that I could sell up to-morrow morning!
Of the quartet that heard his words no two members seemed quite similarly impressed.
The pale face of Adeler, the great financier's confidential secretary, expressed no emotion whatever. Sir Richard Haredale flashed contempt from his grey eyes—only to veil his scorn of the man's vulgarity beneath a cloud of tobacco smoke. Tom Sheard, of the Gleaner, drew down a corner of his mouth and felt ashamed of the acquaintance. Denby, the music-hall comedian, softly whistled those bars of a popular ballad set to the words, "I stood in old Jerusalem."
WHO WAS SUMURU? It was said that she was an ice-cold, fascinating genius whose hypnotic powers impelled all men to do her bidding. It was said she was a fanatic who ruled her followers with oriental despots. It was said . . . But what was the truth? Nobody really knew although two men knew part of it -- sir Miles Tristram, just returned from Cairo, and Dr. Steel Maitland of the Secret Service. But Tristram died by the hand of a beautiful woman and his secret died with him. That left Maitland alone to follow the trail through Sumuru's shadowy underworld and it almost proved to be a task more than he could handle. In Sins of Sumuru, Sax Rohmer, creator of the famous Fu Manchu novels, has written another masterly story of fear and excitement.
An illusive Chinese mastermind and his henchman have already killed one socialite and they hold a mysterious sway over many of London's elite. What is the secret of their power? Follow the trail with Sax Rohmer's famous detectives Gaston Max and Inspector Dunbar as they chase the international gang of hoodlums and their leader, the evil Dr. King.
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