Found 190,834 results for "Privateering"
The Mystery of the Blue Train
by Agatha Christie
IT was close on midnight when a man crossed the Place de la Concorde.
Curtain
by Agatha Christie
WHO is there who has not felt a sudden startled pang at reliving an old experience or feeling an old emotion?
Appointment with Death
by Agatha Christie
"YOU do see, don't you, that she's go to be killed?"
Hallowe'en Party
by Agatha Christie
MRS. Ariadne Oliver had gone with the friend with whom she was staying, Judith Butler, to help with the preparations for...
Cards on the Table
by Agatha Christie
"MY dear Monsieur Poirot!" It was a soft purring voice used deliberately as an instrument-nothing impulsive or unpremedi...
Mémoires
by Giacomo Casanova
"YESTERDAY," SHE said, "you left with me two portraits of my Venetian sister M. M. I beg you to make me a present of the...
The A.B.C. Murders
by Agatha Christie
It was in June of 1935 that I came home from my ranch in South America for a stay of about six months.
Murder on the Links
by Agatha Christie
I believe that a well-known anecdote exists to the effect that a young writer, determined to make the commencement of hi...
David Copperfield
by Charles Dickens
WHETHER I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by any body else, these pag...
One, Two, Buckle My Shoe
by Agatha Christie
MR. Morley was not in the best of tempers at breakfast.
Hercule Poirot's Christmas
by Agatha Christie
STEPHEN pulled up the collar of his coat as he walked briskly along the platform.
Five Little Pigs
by Agatha Christie
Hercule Poirot looked with interest and appreciation at the young woman who was being ushered into the room.
Murder in Mesopotamia
by Agatha Christie
IN the hall of the Tigris Palace Hotel in Baghdad a hospital nurse was finishing a letter.
The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
by Agatha Christie
MRS. Ferrars died on the night of the 16th-17th September-a Thursday.
Poirot investigates
by Agatha Christie
I was standing at the window of Poirot's rooms looking out idly on the street below.
After the Funeral
by Agatha Christie
OLD Lanscombe moved totteringly from room to room, pulling up the blinds.