Books with author Herbert JENKINS

MALCOLM SAGE had been a hot shot intelligence agent for Britain's Division Z during the Great War, but when the fighting ceased, his thirst for action and adventure didn't. Fortunately, his old chief from division Z helped him set up the Malcolm Sage Detective Bureau, and much merry mayhem and more than a few ripping good yarns ensued.Malcolm Sage, Detective / Herbert George Jenkins / Malcolm Sage, Detective ebook / Malcolm Sage, Detective kindle / Malcolm Sage, Detective by Herbert George Jenkins

"John!" "Yeh!" "Don't say 'yeh,' say 'yes,' Dorothy dear." "Yes, Dorothy de——" Sir John Dene was interrupted in his apology by a napkin-ring whizzing past his left ear. "What's wrong?" he enquired, laying aside his paper and picking up the napkin-ring. "I'm trying to attract your attention," replied Lady Dene, slipping from her place at the breakfast-table and perching herself upon the arm of her husband's chair. She ran her fingers lightly through his hair. "Are you listening?" "Sure!" "Well, what are you going to do for Mr. Sage?" In his surprise at the question, Sir John Dene jerked up his head to look at her, and Dorothy's forefinger managed to find the corner of his eye. He blinked vigorously, whilst she, crooning apologies into his ear, dabbed his eye with her handkerchief. "Now," she said, when the damage had been repaired, "I'll go and sit down like a proper, respectable wife of a D.S.O.," and she returned to her seat. "Well?" she demanded, as he did not speak. "Yes, dear." "What are you going to do for Mr. Sage, now that Department Z is being demobbed? You know you like him, because you didn't want to ginger him up, and you mustn't forget that he saved your life," she added. "Sure!" "Don't say 'sure,' John," she cried. "You're a British baronet, and British baronets don't say 'sure,' 'shucks' or vamoose.' Do you understand?" He nodded thoughtfully; "I like Mr. Sage," announced Dorothy. Then a moment later she added, "He always reminds me of the superintendent of a Sunday-school, with his conical bald head and gold spectacles. He's not a bit like a detective, is he?" "Sure!" "If you say it again, John, I shall scream," she cried. For some seconds there was silence, broken at length by Dorothy. "I like his wonderful hands, too," she continued. "I'm sure he's proud of them, because he can never keep them still. If you say 'sure,' I'll divorce you," she added hastily. He smiled, that sudden, sunny smile she had learned to look for and love. "Then again I like him because he's always courteous and kind. At Department Z they'd have had their appendixes out if Mr. Sage wanted them. Now have you made up your mind?" "Made it up to what?" he asked, lighting a cigar.

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