City of Fire

Livingston Hill Grace

Description

If you think the genre of Christian-oriented romance is too often dragged down by dull plots and indistinct characters, try Grace Livingston Hill's thrilling novel The City of Fire. With plenty of suspense and subtle character development, this novel turns the typical romance tale on its head.

Sujets

• Romance

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 octobre 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776672554
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE CITY OF FIRE
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GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL
 
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The City of Fire First published in 1922 Epub ISBN 978-1-77667-255-4 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77667-256-1 © 2015 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV Chapter XV Chapter XVI Chapter XVII Chapter XVIII Chapter XIX Chapter XX Chapter XXI Chapter XXII Chapter XXIII Chapter XXIV Chapter XXV Chapter XXVI Chapter XXVII Chapter XXVIII Chapter XXIX Chapter XXX
Chapter I
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Sabbath Valley lay like a green jewel cupped in the hand of thesurrounding mountains with the morning sun serene upon it picking outthe clean smooth streets, the white houses with their green blinds, themaples with their clear cut leaves, the cosy brick school house widewinged and friendly, the vine clad stone church, and the little stonebungalow with low spreading roof that was the parsonage. The wordmanse had not yet reached the atmosphere. There were no affectations inSabbath Valley.
Billy Gaston, two miles away and a few degrees up the mountain side,standing on the little station platform at Pleasant View, waiting forthe morning train looked down upon the beauty at his feet and felt itsloveliness blindly. A passing thrill of wonder and devotion fled throughhis fourteen-year-old soul as he regarded it idly. Down there was homeand all his interests and loyalty. His eyes dwelt affectionately on thepointing spire and bell tower. He loved those bells, and the one whoplayed them, and under their swelling tones had been awakened newthoughts and lofty purposes. He knew they were lofty. He was not yetaltogether sure that they were his, but they were there in his mind forhim to think about, and there was a strange awesome lure about theircontemplation.
Down the platform was the new freight agent, a thickset, rubber-shodindividual with a projecting lower jaw and a lowering countenance. Hehad lately arrived to assist the regular station agent, who lived in abit of a shack up the mountain and was a thin sallow creature with sadeyes and no muscles. Pleasant View was absolutely what it stated, apleasant view and nothing else. The station was a well weathered boxthat blended into the mountain side unnoticeably, and did not spoil theview. The agent's cabin was hidden by the trees and did not count.But Pleasant View was important as a station because it stood at theintersection of two lines of thread like tracks that slipped among themountains in different directions; one winding among the trees and abouta clear mountain lake, carried guests for the summer to and fro, andgreat quantities of baggage and freight from afar; the other travelledthrough long tunnels to the world beyond and linked great cities likejewels on a chain. There were heavy bales and boxes and many trunks tobe shifted and it was obvious that the sallow station agent could not doit all. The heavy one had been sent to help him through the rush season.
In five minutes more the train would come from around the mountain andbring a swarm of ladies and children for the Hotel at the Lake. Theywould have to be helped off with all their luggage, and on again tothe Lake train, which would back up two minutes later. This was Billy'sharvest time. He could sometimes make as much as fifty cents or evenseventy-five if he struck a generous party, just being generally useful,carrying bags and marshalling babies. It was important that Billy shouldearn something for it was Saturday and the biggest ball game of theseason came off at Monopoly that afternoon. Billy could manage thegetting there, it was only ten miles away, but money to spend when hearrived was more than a necessity. Saturday was always a good day at thestation.
Billy had slipped into the landscape unseen. His rusty, trusty oldbicycle was parked in a thick huckleberry growth just below the gradeof the tracks, and Billy himself stood in the shelter of several immensepacking boxes piled close to the station. It was a niche just big enoughfor his wiry young length with the open station window close at his ear.From either end of the platform he was hidden, which was as it should beuntil he got ready to arrive with the incoming train.
The regular station agent was busy checking a high pile of trunks thathad come down on the early Lake train from the Hotel and had to betransferred to the New York train. He was on the other side of thestation and some distance down the platform.
Beyond the packing boxes the heavy one worked with brush and paintmarking some barrels. If Billy applied an eye to a crack in his hidingplace he could watch every stroke of the fat black brush, and see themuscles in the swarthy cheeks move as the man mouthed a big black cigar.But Billy was not interested in the new freight agent, and remained inhis retreat, watching the brilliant sunshine shimmer over the blue-greenhaze of spruce and pine that furred the way down to the valley. Hebasked in it like a cat blinking its content. The rails were beginningto hum softly, and it would not be long till the train arrived.
Suddenly Billy was aware of a shadow looming.
The heavy one had laid down his brush and was stealing swiftly,furtively to the door of the station with a weather eye to the agent onhis knees beside a big trunk writing something on a check. Billy drewback like a turtle to his shell and listened. The rail was beginning tosing decidedly now and the telephone inside the grated window suddenlysat up a furious ringing. Billy's eye came round the corner of thewindow, scanned the empty platform, glimpsed the office desk inside andthe weighty figure holding the receiver, then vanished enough to be outof sight, leaving only a wide curious ear to listen:
"That you Sam? Yep. Nobody about. Train's coming. Hustle up. Anythingdoing? You don't say ! Some big guy? Say , that's good news at last!Get on the other wire and hold it. I'll come as quick as the train'sgone. S'long!"
Billy cocked a curious eye like a flash into the window and back again,ducking behind the boxes just in time to miss the heavy one coming outwith an excited air, and a feverish eye up the track where the train wascoming into view around the curve.
In a moment all was stir and confusion, seven women wanting attentionat once, and imperious men of the world crying out against railroadregulations. Billy hustled everywhere, transferring bags and suit caseswith incredible rapidity to the other train, which arrived promptly,securing a double seat for the fat woman with the canary, and the poodlein a big basket, depositing the baggage of a pretty lady on the shadyside, making himself generally useful to the opulent looking man withthe jewelled rings; and back again for another lot. A whole dollar andfifteen cents jingled in his grimy pocket as the trains finally movedoff in their separate directions and the peace of Pleasant View settleddown monotonously once more.
Billy gave a hurried glance about him. The station agent was busy withanother batch of trunks, but the heavy one was nowhere to be seen.He gave a quick glance through the grated window where the telegraphinstrument was clicking away sleepily, but no one was there. Then a stiramong the pines below the track attracted his attention, and stepping tothe edge of the bank he caught a glimpse of a broad dusty back lumberinghurriedly down among the branches.
With a flirt of his eye back to the absorbed station agent Billy was offdown the mountain after the heavy one, walking stealthily as any cat,pausing in alert attention, listening, peering out eerily whenever hecame to a break in the undergrowth. Like a young mole burrowing he wovehis way under branches the larger man must have turned aside, and so hisgoing was as silent as the air. Now and then he could hear the crash ofa broken branch or the crackle of a twig, or the rolling of a stoneset free by a heavy foot, but he went on like a cat, like a littlewood shadow, till suddenly he felt he was almost upon his prey. Then hepaused and listened.
The man was kneeling just below him. He could hear the laboredbreathing. There was a curious sound of metal and wood, of a key turningin a lock. Billy drew himself softly into a group of cypress and heldhis breath. Softly he parted the foliage and peered. The man was downupon his knees before a rough box, holding something in his hand whichhe put to his ear. Billy could not quite see what it was. And now theman began to talk into the box. Billy ducked and listened:
"Hello, Sam! You there! Couldn't come any quicker, lots of passengers.Lots of freight. What's doing, anyhow?"
Billy could hear a faint murmur of words, now and then one gutteralburst out and became distinct, and gradually enough words piecedthemselves together to become intelligible.
"... Rich guy! High power machine ... Great catch ... Tonight!... Got abet on to get there by sunrise.... Can't miss him!"
Billy lay there puzzled. It sounded shady, but what was the line anyway?Then the man spoke.
"Sounds easy Sammy, but how we goin' to kidnap a man in a high powermachine? Wreck it of course, but he might get killed and where would bethe reward? Besides, he's likely to be a good shot—"
The voice from the ground again growing clearer:
"Put something across the road that he'll have to get out and move, likea fallen tree, or one of you lie