Books with author Norman Lynne Cole

It was one of those rare autumn days in England. The sky was blue asblue. The trees cast dark shadows across the hillside. The sheepwandered contentedly along the slope. To Cherry Ramsey, for one fullmoment it seemed that nothing could possibly be wrong with the world.Then with a sudden light spring she shot from her sunny corner to scanthe sky and to exclaim softly to the collie at her feet:"Flash old boy, it's an airplane. Perhaps it's a bomb-bomber." That lastword always choked her. How she hated those Nazi marauders! No, all wasnot right with the world! Perhaps it never would be again for a long,long time!"But Flash old boy," there was hot fire in her voice, "we must all doour best and trust God. That's what mother always says, and she's nearlyalways right."

As the character of a woman may be accurately deduced from her handkerchief, so a man’s mental status is evident from the way he opens his mail.Curtis Keefe, engaged in this daily performance, slit the envelopes neatly and laid the letters down in three piles. These divisions represented matters known to be of no great interest; matters known to beimportant; and, third, letters with contents as yet unknown and therefore of problematical value.The first two piles were, as usual, dispatched quickly, and the real attention of the secretary centered with pleasant anticipation on thethird lot.“Gee whiz, Genevieve!”As no further pearls of wisdom fell from the lips of the engrossed reader of letters, the stenographer gave him a round-eyed glance and then continued her work.Curtis Keefe was, of course, called Curt by his intimates, and while it may be the obvious nickname was brought about by his short and concisemanner of speech, it is more probable that the abbreviation was largely responsible for his habit of curtness.Anyway, Keefe had long cultivated a crisp, abrupt style of conversation.That is, until he fell in with Samuel Appleby.

"But I know it's so,--for Mrs. Fairbanks saw it herself,--and heard it,too!"The air of finality in the gaze levelled at Braye defied contradiction,so he merely smiled at the girl who was doing the talking. But, talkingor silent, Eve Carnforth was well worth smiling at. Her red hairwas of that thin, silky, flat-lying sort, that spells temper, butlooks lovely, and her white, delicate skin,--perhaps the least bithand-painted,--showed temperament while her eyes, of the colour calledberyl,--whatever that is,--showed all sorts of things.Then from her canna-hued lips fell more wisdom. "And Professor Hardwickbelieves it, too, and he's----""A college professor," broke in Landon, "don't try to gild hisrefinement! But really, Eve, you mustn't believe in spooks,--it isn'tdone----"

"And then I saw it--the Shadow."The speaker's eyes appeared to snap. Johnny Thompson leaned forward inhis chair. "It glided through the fog without a sound." The voice dronedon, "Not a sound, mind you! We had a small boat with powerful motors. Istepped on the gas. Our motors roared. We were after that shadow.""And then?" Johnny Thompson whispered."For all I know," the black-eyed man murmured, leaning back in his chair,"we might have cut that shadow square in two. Anyway, that's the last wesaw of it for that day."But think of it!" he exclaimed after a second's pause. "Think of thething just disappearing in the fog like that!"He was a romantic figure, this man Blackie. The boys of Matanuska Valleyin Alaska loved this gathering of an evening about the red-hot stove inthe store. And no part of the evening's entertainment was ever half sothrilling as Blackie's stories."It was spring then," Blackie added, "late May, when the salmon run wason.""It was a whale after salmon, that shadow," someone suggested."No, sir!" Blackie fairly shouted. "It was too fast for a whale! Somesort of Oriental craft, I shouldn't wonder. Though how they'd make it gowithout a sound is beyond me."Ah well," he sighed, "I'll be rid of these by spring." He kicked at thecrutches beside his chair. "Then I'll be after 'em again, those bloomin'Orientals and their gliding shadows.""You going back into the Coast Guard Service?" Johnny asked eagerly."I sure am!" Blackie agreed heartily. "Boy! That's the life! A speedyboat with two or three airplane motors in her hull, a good crew, plentyof gas, the wide open sea and enough trouble to keep your eyes open dayand night. Man! Oh, man!"..............

Night was settling down over the mountain side. Already the valleys farbelow were lost in darkness. The massive fortress which the dwellers onthe island of Haiti have always called the Citadel hung like a mountaincliff above a boy who, hot from climbing, had thrown himself on a bed ofmoss at the foot of a gnarled mahogany tree."Whew!" he exclaimed softly to himself. "Even three thousand feet abovethe sea here in Haiti it's hot. Hot and dry. Fellow'd think--"He broke short off to stare. A curious thing was happening. Out from asmall dark opening some forty feet up the perpendicular wall of themassive abandoned fortification, something quite indistinct in thetwilight had moved and was creeping slowly down the moss-grown wall."Like a snake," he told himself, "only, here in Haiti, there are nosnakes to speak of and certainly not one as long as that. Only look! It'sdown to the window below; a full twenty feet."That window--" He caught his breath, then began to count. "One, two,three, four,--"That's the window of Curlie's 'laburatory' as he calls it. It--why, it'sa plot! I should warn him. It--"

“What a gorgeous day for a sleigh-ride! Did you ever see such sunny,twinkling snow, and such crisp, crackly air? It fairly snaps off as youbreathe it!”Betty McGuire stood on the steps of the veranda as she spoke. Her mother,in the doorway, was smiling down at her, and her pony, Dixie, wasjingling his bells and pawing at the snow and ice in the driveway below.It was the first trial of the pretty new cutter, and the joyousexcitement of the occasion made Betty’s cheeks as red as her scarlettam-o’-shanter cap, or her red cloth coat with its high fur collar. Bettydrew on her driving-gloves, still talking to her mother.“Isn’t it a darling sleigh, Mother? Did you ever see such a pretty one?And Dixie is so proud of it.”“It’s a beauty, Betty. I know you’ll enjoy it. Are you taking Tilly for aride?”“No; I’m going for May Fordham to-day. We’re planning for the party, youknow. I’ll take Tilly some other day.”“Very well; be home by sundown, won’t you?