G.L. Morrissey ( Read more... )

“Oh, I do so love an excuse for getting to the city!” Mrs. Combe exclaimed happily, as we settled ourselves in an empty compartment. “Country life is so dull. Of course, I really can’t complain this time that I don’t get to London often enough. I was just there yesterday, after all.”

( Read on... )

There was a great deal of the performer in Raffles, as anyone who had seen him impersonate an East End thief or an indignant constable might have attested; and when his sister, as was her custom, gave him the lesson to read at morning services he threw himself into that role, too, and did it most affectingly. I had earlier noticed that the Reverend ( Read more... )

He continued not to think of food through all the long afternoon- while I, on the other hand, could think of almost nothing else.
( Read on... )

Next morning, when I woke, Raffles was at the window again, observing the street below from such a position as precluded his being seen himself.
( Read on... )

I persuaded my mother to write me a Raffles story if I would illustrate it. She's kindly agreed to let me share it with you, so here it is. It is fairly long (15,000 words), so I have split it up and will be posting the rest in the next few days.

The Best of Sisters

G.L. Morrissey

My tastes are as refined as any man’s, I think; and my ( Read more... )