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- Author: Bram Stoker
- Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
- Year: 2017
- Pages: 226
- ISBN-10: 1544708432
- ISBN-13: 9781544708430
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 1.2 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English
- SAVE -10% with code: EXTRA
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"Beg pardon, sir, I'm sorry for disturbing you, but my orders was imperative; I was not to lose a moment, but to knock and ring till someone came. May I ask you, sir, if Mr. Malcolm Ross lives here?" "I am Mr. Malcolm Ross." "Then this letter is for you, sir, and the bro'am is for you too, sir!" I took, with a strange curiosity, the letter which he handed to me. As a barrister I had had, of course, odd experiences now and then, including sudden demands upon my time; but never anything like this. I stepped back into the hall, closing the door to, but leaving it ajar; then I switched on the electric light. The letter was directed in a strange hand, a woman's. It began at once without "dear sir" or any such address: "You said you would like to help me if I needed it; and I believe you meant what you said. The time has come sooner than I expected. I am in dreadful trouble, and do not know where to turn, or to whom to apply. An attempt has, I fear, been made to murder my Father; though, thank God, he still lives. But he is quite unconscious.
The promotion ends in 
- Author: Bram Stoker
- Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
- Year: 2017
- Pages: 226
- ISBN-10: 1544708432
- ISBN-13: 9781544708430
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 1.2 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English English
"Beg pardon, sir, I'm sorry for disturbing you, but my orders was imperative; I was not to lose a moment, but to knock and ring till someone came. May I ask you, sir, if Mr. Malcolm Ross lives here?" "I am Mr. Malcolm Ross." "Then this letter is for you, sir, and the bro'am is for you too, sir!" I took, with a strange curiosity, the letter which he handed to me. As a barrister I had had, of course, odd experiences now and then, including sudden demands upon my time; but never anything like this. I stepped back into the hall, closing the door to, but leaving it ajar; then I switched on the electric light. The letter was directed in a strange hand, a woman's. It began at once without "dear sir" or any such address: "You said you would like to help me if I needed it; and I believe you meant what you said. The time has come sooner than I expected. I am in dreadful trouble, and do not know where to turn, or to whom to apply. An attempt has, I fear, been made to murder my Father; though, thank God, he still lives. But he is quite unconscious.
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