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Police!!! was written in the year 1915 by Robert William Chambers. This book is one of the most popular novels of Robert William Chambers, and has been translated into several other languages around the world.This book is published by Booklassic which brings young readers closer to classic literature globally.
As everybody knows, the great majority of Americans, upon reaching the age of natural selection, are elected to the American Institute of Arts and Ethics, which is, so to speak, the Ellis Island of the Academy.
Occasionally a general mobilization of the Academy is ordered and, from the teeming population of the Institute, a new Immortal is selected for the American Academy of Moral Endeavor by the simple process of blindfolded selection from Who's Which.
The motto of this most stately of earthly institutions is a peculiarly modest, truthful, and unintentional epigram by Tupper:
"Unknown, I became Famous; Famous, I remain Unknown."
And so I found it to be the case; for, when at last I was privileged to write my name, "Smith, Academician," I discovered to my surprise that I knew none of my brother Immortals, and, more amazing still, none of them had ever heard of me.
This latter fact became the more astonishing to me as I learned the identity of the other Immortals.
Even the President of our great republic was numbered among these Olympians. I had every right to suppose that he had heard of me. I had happened to hear of him, because his Secretary of State once mentioned him at Chautauqua.
It was a wonderfully meaningless sensation to know nobody and to discover myself equally unknown amid that matchless companionship. We were like a mixed bunch of gods, Greek, Norse, Hindu, Hottentot-all gathered on Olympus, having never heard of each other but taking it for granted that we were all gods together and all members of this club.
My initiation into the Academy had been fixed for April first, and I was much worried concerning the address which I was of course expected to deliver on that occasion before my fellow members.
It had to be an exciting address because slumber was not an infrequent phenomenon among the Immortals on such solemn occasions. Like dozens of dozing Joves a dull discourse always set them nodding.
But always under such circumstances the pretty ushers from Barnard College passed around refreshments; a suffragette orchestra struck up; the ushers uprooted the seated Immortals and fox-trotted them into comparative consciousness.
But I didn't wish to have my inaugural address interrupted, therefore I was at my wits' ends to discover a subject of such exciting scientific interest that my august audience could not choose but listen as attentively as they would listen from the front row to some deathless stunt in vaudeville.
That morning I had left the Bronx rather early, hoping that a long walk might compose my thoughts and enable me to think of some sufficiently entertaining and unusual subject for my inaugural address.
I walked as far as Columbia University, gazed with rapture upon its magnificent architecture until I was as satiated as though I had arisen from a banquet at Childs'.
To aid mental digestion I strolled over to the noble home of the Academy and Institute adjoining Mr. Huntington's Hispano-Moresque Museum.
It was a fine, sunny morning, and the Immortals were being exercised by a number of pretty ushers from Barnard.
I gazed upon the impressive procession with pride unutterable; very soon I also should walk two and two in the sunshine, my dome crowned with figurative laurels, cracking scientific witticisms with my fellow inmates, or, perhaps, squeezing the pretty fingers of some-But let that pass.
I was, as I say, gazing upon this inspiring scene on a beautiful morning in February, when I became aware of a short and visibly vulgar person beside me, plucking persistently at my elbow.
"Are you the great Academician, Perfessor Smith?" he asked, tipping his pearl-coloured and somewhat soiled bowler.
"Yes," I said condescendingly. "Your description of me precludes further doubt. What can I do for you, my good man?"
"Are you this here Perfessor Smith of the Department of Anthropology in the Bronx Park Zo?logical Society?" he persisted.
"What do you desire of me?" I repeated, taking another look at him. He was exceedingly ordinary.
"Prof, old sport," he said cordially, "I took a slant at the papers yesterday, an' I seen all about the big time these guys had when you rode the goat-"
"Rode-what?"
"When you was elected. Get me?"
I stared at him. He grinned in a friendly way.
"The privacy of those solemn proceedings should remain sacred. It were unfit to discuss such matters with the world at large," I said coldly.
"I get you," he rejoined cheerfully.
"What do you desire of me?" I repeated. "Why this unseemly apropos?"
"I was comin' to it. Perfessor, I'll be frank. I need money-"
"You need brains!"
"No," he said good-humouredly, "I've got 'em; plenty of 'em; I'm overstocked with idees. What I want to do is to sell you a few-"
"Do you know you are impudent!"
"Listen, friend. I seen a piece in the papers as how you was to make the speech of your life when you ride the goat for these here guys on April first-"
"I decline to listen-"
"One minute, friend! I want to ask you one thing! What are you going to talk about?"
I was already moving away but I stopped and stared at him.
"That's the question," he nodded with unimpaired cheerfulness, "what are you going to talk about on April the first? Remember it's the hot-air party of your life. Ree-member that each an' every paper in the United States will print what you say. Now, how about it, friend? Are you up in your lines?"
Swallowing my repulsion for him I said: "Why are you concerned as to what may be the subject of my approaching address?"
"There you are, Prof!" he exclaimed delightedly; "I want to do business with you. That's me! I'm frank about it. Say, there ought to be a wad of the joyful in it for us both-"
"What?"
"Sure. We can work it any old way. Take Tyng, Tyng and Company, the typewriter people. I'd be ashamed to tell you what I can get out o' them if you'll mention the Tyng-Tyng typewriter in your speech-"
"What you suggest is infamous!" I said haughtily.
"Believe me there's enough in it to make it a financial coup, and I ask you, Prof, isn't a financial coup respectable?"
"You seem to be morally unfitted to comprehend-"
"Pardon me! I'm fitted up regardless with all kinds of fixtures. I'm fixed to undertake anything. Now if you'd prefer the Bunsen Baby Biscuit bunch-why old man Bunsen would come across-"
"I won't do such things!" I said angrily.
"Very well, very well. Don't get riled, sir. That's only one way to build on Fifth Avenoo. I've got one hundred thousand other ways-"
"I don't want to talk to you-"
"They're honest-some of them. Say, if you want a stric'ly honest deal I've got the goods. Only it ain't as easy and the money ain't as big-"
"I don't want to talk to you-"
"Yes you do. You don't reelize it but you do. Why you're fixin' to make the holler of your life, ain't you? What are you goin' to say? Hey? What you aimin' to say to make those guys set up? What's the use of up-stagin'? Ain't you willin' to pay me a few plunks if I dy-vulge to you the most startlin' phenomena that has ever electrified civilization sense the era of P.T. Barnum!"
I was already hurrying away when the mention of that great scientist's name halted me once more.
The little flashy man had been tagging along at my heels, talking cheerfully and volubly all the while; and now, as I halted again, he struck an attitude, legs apart, thumbs hooked in his arm-pits, and his head cocked knowingly on one side.
"Prof," he said, "if you'd work in the Tyng-Tyng Company, or fix it up with Bunsen to mention his Baby Biscuits as the most nootritious of condeements, there'd be more in it for you an' me. But it's up to you."
"Well I won't!" I retorted.
"Very well, ve-ry well," he said soothingly. "Then look over another line o' samples. No trouble to show 'em-none at all, sir! Now if P.T. Barnum was alive-"
I said very seriously: "The name of that great discoverer falling from your illiterate lips has halted me a second time. His name alone invests your somewhat suspicious conversation with a dignity and authority heretofore conspicuously absent. If, as you hint, you have any scientific information for sale which P.T. Barnum might have considered worth purchasing, you may possibly find in me a client. Proceed, young sir."
"Say, listen, Bo-I mean, Prof. I've got the goods. Don't worry. I've got information in my think-box that would make your kick-in speech the event of the century. The question remains, do I get mine?"
* * *
"'Say, listen, Bo-I mean, Prof. I've got the goods.'"
* * *
"What is this scientific information?"
We had now walked as far as Riverside Drive. There were plenty of unoccupied benches. I sat down and he seated himself beside me.
For a few moments I gazed upon the magnificent view. Even he seemed awed by the proportions of the superb iron gas tank dominating the prospect.
I gazed at the colossal advertisements across the Hudson, at the freight trains below; I gazed upon the lordly Hudson itself, that majestic sewer which drains the Empire State, bearing within its resistless flood millions of tons of insoluble matter from that magic fairyland which we call "up-state," to the sea. And, thinking of disposal plants, I thought of that sublime paraphrase-"From the Mohawk to the Hudson, and from the Hudson to the Sea."
"Bo," he said, "I gotta hand it to you. Them guys might have got wise if you had worked in the Tyng-Tyng Company or the Bunsen stuff. There was big money into it, but it might not have went."
I waited curiously.
"But this here dope I'm startin' in to cook for you is a straight, reelible, an' hones' pill. P.T. Barnum he would have went a million miles to see what I seen last Janooary down in the Coquina country-"
"Where is that?"
"Say; that's what costs money to know. When I put you wise I'm due to retire from actyve business. Get me?"
"Go on."
"Sure. I was down to the Coquina country, a-doin'-well, I was doin' rubes. I gotta be hones' with you, Prof. That's what I was a-doin' of-sellin' farms under water to suckers. Bee-u-tiful Florida! Own your own orange grove. Seven crops o' strawberries every winter in Gawd's own country-get me?"
He bestowed upon me a loathsome wink.
"Well, it went big till I made a break and got in Dutch with the Navy Department what was surveyin' the Everglades for a safe and sane harbor of refuge for the navy in time o' war.
"Sir, they was a-dredgin' up the farms I was sellin', an' the suckers heard of it an' squealed somethin' fierce, an' I had to hustle! Yes, sir, I had to git up an' mosey cross-lots. And what with the Federal Gov'ment chasin' me one way an' them rubes an' the sheriff of Pickalocka County racin' me t'other, I got lost for fair-yes, sir."
He smiled reminiscently, produced from his pockets the cold and offensive remains of a partly consumed cigar, and examined it critically. Then he requested a match.
"I shall now pass over lightly or in subdood silence the painful events of my flight," he remarked, waving his cigar and expelling a long squirt of smoke from his unshaven lips. "Surfice it to say that I got everythin' that was comin' to me, an' then some, what with snakes and murskeeters, an' briers an' mud, an' hunger an' thirst an' heat. Wasn't there a wop named Pizarro or somethin' what got lost down in Florida? Well, he's got nothin' on me. I never want to see the dam' state again. But I'll go back if you say so!"
His small rat eyes rested musingly upon the river; he sucked thoughtfully at his cigar, hooked one soiled thumb into the armhole of his fancy vest and crossed his legs.
"To resoom," he said cheerily; "I come out one day, half nood, onto the banks of the Miami River. The rest was a pipe after what I had went through.
"I trimmed a guy at Miami, got clothes and railroad fare, an' ducked.
"Now the valyble portion of my discourse is this here partial information concernin' what I seen-or rather what I run onto durin' my crool flight from my ree-lentless persecutors.
"An' these here is the facts: There is, contrary to maps, Coast Survey guys, an' general opinion, a range of hills in Florida, made entirely of coquina.
"It's a good big range, too, fifty miles long an' anywhere from one to five miles acrost.
"An' what I've got to say is this: Into them there Coquina hills there still lives the expirin' remains of the cave-men-"
"What!" I exclaimed incredulously.
"Or," he continued calmly, "to speak more stric'ly, the few individools of that there expirin' race is now totally reduced to a few women."
"Your statement is wild-"
"No; but they're wild. I seen 'em. Bein' extremely bee-utiful I approached nearer, but they hove rocks at me, they did, an' they run into the rocks like squir'ls, they did, an' I was too much on the blink to stick around whistlin' for dearie.
"But I seen 'em; they was all dolled up in the skins of wild annermals. When I see the first one she was eatin' onto a ear of corn, an' I nearly ketched her, but she run like hellnall-yes, sir. Just like that.
"So next I looked for some cave guy to waltz up an' paste me, but no. An' after I had went through them dam' Coquina mountains I realized that there was nary a guy left in this here expirin' race, only women, an' only about a dozen o' them."
He ceased, meditatively expelled a cloud of pungent smoke, and folded his arms.
"Of course," said I with a sneer, "you have proofs to back your pleasant tale?"
"Sure. I made a map."
"I see," said I sarcastically. "You propose to have me pay you for that map?"
"Sure."
"How much, my confiding friend?"
"Ten thousand plunks."
I began to laugh. He laughed, too: "You'll pay 'em if you take my map an' go to the Coquina hills," he said.
I stopped laughing: "Do you mean that I am to go there and investigate before I pay you for this information?"
"Sure. If the goods ain't up to sample the deal is off."
"Sample? What sample?" I demanded derisively.
He made a gesture with one soiled hand as though quieting a balky horse.
"I took a snapshot, friend. You wanta take a slant at it?"
"You took a photograph of one of these alleged cave-dwellers?"
"I took ten but when these here cave-ladies hove rocks at me the fillums was put on the blink-all excep' this one which I dee-veloped an' printed."
He drew from his inner coat pocket a photograph and handed it to me-the most amazing photograph I ever gazed upon. Astounded, almost convinced I sat looking at this irrefutable evidence in silence. The smoke of his cigar drifting into my face aroused me from a sort of dazed inertia.
"Listen," I said, half strangled, "are you willing to wait for payment until I personally have verified the existence of these-er-creatures?"
"You betcher! When you have went there an' have saw the goods, just let me have mine if they're up to sample. Is that right?"
"It seems perfectly fair."
"It is fair. I wouldn't try to do a scientific guy-no, sir. Me without no eddycation, only brains? Fat chance I'd have to put one over on a Academy sport what's chuck-a-block with Latin an' Greek an' scientific stuff an' all like that!"
I admitted to myself that he'd stand no chance.
"Is it a go?" he asked.
"Where is the map?" I inquired, trembling internally with excitement.
"Ha-ha!" he said. "Listen to my mirth! The map is inside here, old sport!" and he tapped his retreating forehead with one nicotine-stained finger.
"I see," said I, trying to speak carelessly; "you desire to pilot me."
"I don't desire to but I gotta go with you."
"An accurate map-"
"Can it, old sport! A accurate map is all right when it's pasted over the front of your head for a face. But I wear the other kind of map inside me conk. Get me?"
"I confess that I do not."
"Well, get this, then. It's a cash deal. If the goods is up to sample you hand me mine then an' there. I don't deliver no goods f.o.b. I shows 'em to you. After you have saw them it's up to you to round 'em up. That's all, as they say when our great President pulls a gun. There ain't goin' to be no shootin'; walk out quietly, ladies!"
After I had sat there for fully ten minutes staring at him I came to the only logical conclusion possible to a scientific mind.
I said: "You are, admittedly, unlettered; you are confessedly a chevalier of industry; personally you are exceedingly distasteful to me. But it is useless to deny that you are the most extraordinary man I ever saw.... How soon can you take me to these Coquina hills?"
"Gimme twenty-four hours to-fix things," he said gaily.
"Is that all?"
"It's plenty, I guess. An'-say!"
"What?"
"It's a stric'ly cash deal. Get me?"
"I shall have with me a certified check for ten thousand dollars. Also a pair of automatics."
He laughed: "Huh!" he said, "I could loco your cabbage-palm soup if I was that kind! I'm on the level, Perfessor. If I wasn't I could get you in about a hundred styles while you was blinkin' at what you was a-thinkin' about. But I ain't no gun-man. You hadn't oughta pull that stuff on me. I've give you your chanst; take it or leave it."
I pondered profoundly for another ten minutes. And at last my decision was irrevocably reached.
"It's a bargain," I said firmly. "What is your name?"
"Sam Mink. Write it Samuel onto that there certyfied check-if you can spare the extra seconds from your valooble time."
* * *
When Mrs. Greensleeve first laid eyes on her baby she knew it was different from the other children. "What is the matter with it?" she asked. The preoccupied physician replied that there was nothing the matter. In point of fact he had been admiring the newly born little girl when her mother asked the question. "She's about as perfect as they make 'em," he concluded, placing the baby beside her mother. The mother said nothing. From moment to moment she turned her head on the pillow and gazed down at her new daughter with a curious, questioning expression. She had never gazed at any of her other children so uneasily. Even after she fell asleep the slightly puzzled expression remained as a faint crease between her brows. Her husband, who had been wandering about from the bar to the office, from the office to the veranda, and occasionally entirely around the exterior of the road-house, came in on tiptoe and looked rather vacantly at them both. Then he went out again as though he was not sure where he might be going. He was a little man and mild, and he did not look as though he had been created for anything in particular, not even for the purpose of procreation. It was one of those early April days when birds make a great fuss over their vocal accomplishments, and the brown earth grows green over night—when the hot spring sun draws vapours from the soil, and the characteristic Long Island odour of manure is far too prevalent to please anybody but a native.
Imagine a civil war that left 150 million people dead. A war waged ruthlessly by the Emperor against his own helpless people. A war continued against all odds by a rebel leader who thought himself the brother of Jesus Christ. The Americans, British and French were caught up in the catastrophe that ensued.Frederick T Ward leads a band of mercenaries against the Taiping rebels. He may find Chinese customs primitive, but that's no reason not to make money out of them. Harry Lindley is searching for his missionary father. They are on a journey into the interior ...At the heart of the Celestial Realm, the Emperor is oblivious to these 'foreign devils'. Dazed by opulence and opium, nor does he notice the vicious internecine struggles around him - on one side his ministers, who see no obstacle but a little bloodshed between them and vast fortunes; on the other, swathed in silk and jewels, the implacable figure of the Emperor's first concubine.This was an extraordinary period in Chinese history, and "Barbarians" follows the exploits of two real-life figures, one an Englishman and the other an American, in Shanghai, while the politics of the Manchu court are centred upon the extraordinary girl, Yehonala, who rose from concubine to become the all-powerful "Queen Victoria of China ."
To the public, she was the CEO's executive secretary. Behind closed doors, she was the wife he never officially acknowledged. Jenessa was elated when she learned that she was pregnant. But that joy was replaced with dread as her husband, Ryan, showered his affections on his first love. With a heavy heart, she chose to set him free and leave. When they met again, Ryan's attention was caught by Jenessa's protruding belly. "Whose child are you carrying?!" he demanded. But she only scoffed. "It's none of your business, my dear ex-husband!"
22-year-old Evelyn Carter is attempting to start over in California while avoiding her past. She will be embarking on a new career path as a private school teacher. She is smart, attractive, and doesn't put up with nonsense. Who wouldn't notice her? However, what happens when she attracts the attention of someone unwilling to let her go? Who wants her and nothing else after falling in love at first sight? A 25-year-old billionaire CEO and single father, Lucian Carrington. He takes what he wants and he is also a very dangerous man. All it needed was one look at a stunning woman to realize she was HIS, even though he doesn't believe in relationships because they always end. Preview: Miss Carter, you will be mine. I say firmly. "Release my arm, Mr. Carrington, before I force you to." She says, seeming to smile at me. I give her a sly smile. Squeezing my wrist with her other hand, she twists it uncomfortably. I gave a painful hiss. "Don't underestimate me, Mr. Carrington." "This is the only time I will allow you to walk away from me, Miss Carter." She glared at me as she turned. "Mr. Carrington, I am no possession of yours." I was left standing there when she opened the classroom door and left.
"I've warned you from the beginning. Don't marry him, but you won't listen." She stood close to me and smiled with concern. "You are not a woman worthy of a man as handsome, rich, smart, and virile as Blaze." My whole body trembled at her words. "Have you no shame?" I asked in a quivering voice. "Take a good look at yourself, Heather." She looked at me in the mirror. "You can't even look at your ugly face. Do you think Blaze can endure a lifetime of looking at that face?" Heather Bailey had a surprise from her husband that night: a divorce agreement. After a year of marriage and facing ups and downs, she couldn't believe Blaze intended to divorce her. But she was devastated when she saw him gazing lovingly at another woman because that person was closest to her. Shortly after she put her signature on their divorce papers, shock waves caught her up. Her flower shop was severely burnt, beyond repair. Her father's company collapsed, and her parents blamed her. She struggled to rebuild her life from the ground up and became more successful than ever. Having many customers who came from influential families, she started her action against Blaze. She won the very thing he wanted. But that was just the beginning.
Sandra Hill, the long-lost real heiress of the Hill family, was shunned by her own kin. Instead of embracing her, they bestowed their affection upon an impostor. They even arranged her to marry a vegetative man in place of her so-called “sister”. Sandra sneered, refusing to put up with this humiliation, cut off ties with the Hill family immediately and ran into the flash marriage with Wesley Cooper, her unconscious billionaire husband. With her incredible medical skills, she defied the odds and revived him. Little did she expect that her husband spoiled her with all his love... A medical genius, a computer prodigy, a national treasure in painting, and a racing legend... Her husband revealed her various identities, leaving the Hill family regretful. Her father came pleading, "It's Dad's fault. Please come back." Her mother wept, "Mom will protect you from now on. Please come back." Even her five brothers knelt before he, begging for forgiveness. Yet, Sandra's smile held a hint of mockery as she vowed, “Never!”
Corinne devoted three years of her life to her boyfriend, only for it to all go to waste. He saw her as nothing more than a country bumpkin and left her at the altar to be with his true love. After getting jilted, Corinne reclaimed her identity as the granddaughter of the town’s richest man, inherited a billion-dollar fortune, and ultimately rose to the top. But her success attracted the envy of others, and people constantly tried to bring her down. As she dealt with these troublemakers one by one, Mr. Hopkins, notorious for his ruthlessness, stood by and cheered her on. “Way to go, honey!”
Elena, once a pampered heiress, suddenly lost everything when the real daughter framed her, her fiancé ridiculed her, and her adoptive parents threw her out. They all wanted to see her fall. But Elena unveiled her true identity: the heiress of a massive fortune, famed hacker, top jewelry designer, secret author, and gifted doctor. Horrified by her glorious comeback, her adoptive parents demanded half her newfound wealth. Elena exposed their cruelty and refused. Her ex pleaded for a second chance, but she scoffed, “Do you think you deserve it?” Then a powerful magnate gently proposed, “Marry me?”