: Edgar Wallace
: Saif El-Dein Ahmed
: Big Foot
: Al-Mashreq eBookstore
: 9787457685554
: 1
: CHF 5.60
:
: Science Fiction, Fantasy
: English
: 250
: DRM
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
Big Foot by Edgar Wallace is a pulse-pounding thriller that plunges readers into the dark heart of the London underworld. When a series of brutal murders baffles Scotland Yard, all clues point to a legendary criminal known only as 'Big Foot.' Detective Sergeant Elk, a sharp and relentless investigator, takes on the dangerous task of tracking down this elusive figure. As the body count rises, Elk uncovers a web of deceit, betrayal, and hidden motives that lead him deeper into the shadows. Will he be able to stop the killer before it's too late, or will he become the next victim of the monstrous Big Foot? Dive into this gripping tale of suspense and unravel the mystery behind the most feared name in London.

Edgar Wallace (1875-1932) was a prolific British writer, journalist, and playwright, best known for his crime thrillers and mysteries. Born in London, Wallace had a challenging childhood, eventually joining the army and later working as a war correspondent. He gained fame for his fast-paced, gripping novels, often centered around police investigations and criminal masterminds. Wallace's most famous creation is 'The Four Just Men,' and he is also credited with contributing to the original script of the classic film 'King Kong.' Over his lifetime, he wrote more than 170 novels, 18 stage plays, and numerous short stories. Wallace's works were hugely popular in the early 20th century, and his storytelling continues to influence the crime genre today.

I. — SOOPER



IT was a coincidence that Sooper made a call at Barley Stack this bright spring morning, for at that moment he knew nothing of the attempt to burgle Mr. Stephen Elson’s house, was ignorant that such a person as Sullivan the tramp existed, or that his crazy companion in crime was wandering loose around the fair countryside, singing foolish little songs about love—and those in a foreign and unintelligible language.


But Barley Stack had for Sooper the fascination which the flame has for the moth, or, a better illustration, the battle for the veteran war-horse. Though he must have known that at this hour Mr. Cardew had long since departed to the City, for Gordon Cardew, though retired from his profession, had the nine o’clock habit ineradicably implanted in his system.


Nevertheless Sooper called. Failing a more poignant thrill of crossing swords with this man Cardew, there was generally a certain amount of satisfaction to be had from an encounter with Hannah Shaw. Mr. Cardew’s attitude of mind towards him was one of resentment, for Sooper had hurt him. Hannah, on the other hand, was incapable of feeling or expressing the fine nuances of personal regard, and hated this ancient superintendent of police with a loathing which she never attempted to conceal.


Hannah stood squarely in the porch of Barley Stack, and the malignant light in her brown eyes might have spoken for her. She was a woman below middle height and rather plump, and her black alpaca dress did not enhance her comeliness.


Comely she was, in a way. Her heavy face was unlined, the thick black fringe over her forehead untinged with grey, though she was well past forty. If her features were big they were regular, and in spite of her proportions it would have been unfair to describe her as dumpy.


“Nice weather we’re havin’,” murmured Sooper. He leant languidly against his dilapidated motor-bicycle, his eyes half closed as though, in the warmth of the morning and the beauty of the surroundings, he was predisposed to take his siesta. “And the garden’s looking lovely too. Never seen so many daffydils as you’ve got in the park, and carnations too! Got a good gardener, I’ll bet. Mr. Cardew in?”


“No, he isn’t!”


“Out foll