MacGrath Harold

Lost treasure, buried by early admirers of Napoleon Bonaparte, is at the center of this incredible adventure.

The story is a blending of the romance and adventure of the middle ages with nineteenth century men and women; and they are creations of flesh and blood, and not mere pictures of past centuries. The story is about Jack Winthrop, a newspaper man. Mr. MacGrath's finest bit of character drawing is seen in Hillars, the broken down newspaper man, and Jack's chum.

A gay romance of Washington today, carried off with admirable dash and spirit, and with just enough tragedy to give point to the comic touch. The hero masquerades as a coachman, takes service in his lady's livery, becomes involved in a diplomatic intrigue, and altogether has the liveliest kind of a time.

The Lure of the Mask was written in the year 1908 by Harold MacGrath. This book is one of the most popular novels of Harold MacGrath, and has been translated into several other languages around the world.This book is published by Booklassic which brings young readers closer to classic literature globally.

The Puppet Crown was written in the year 1901 by Harold MacGrath. This book is one of the most popular novels of Harold MacGrath, and has been translated into several other languages around the world.This book is published by Booklassic which brings young readers closer to classic literature globally.

The Ragged Edge was written in the year 1922 by Harold MacGrath. This book is one of the most popular novels of Harold MacGrath, and has been translated into several other languages around the world.This book is published by Booklassic which brings young readers closer to classic literature globally.

A typical MacGrath story that hinges on a Bolshevik intrigue in America. Plausibility is a small concern of a plot which will hold devotees.

In this novel a wide field of action is spread, many and varied characters live their daring and brilliant lives, and through it all the man and the woman whom the reader has learned to love walk in safety to a joyful climax.

A London fog, solid, substantial, yellow as an old dog's tooth or a jaundiced eye. You could not look through it, nor yet gaze up and down it, nor over it; and you only thought you saw it. The eye became impotent, untrustworthy; all senses lay fallow except that of touch; the skin alone conveyed to you with promptness and no incertitude that this thing had substance. You could feel it; you could open and shut your hands and sense it on your palms, and it penetrated your clothes and beaded your spectacles and rings and bracelets and shoe-buckles. It was nightmare, bereft of its pillows, grown somnambulistic; and London became the antechamber to Hades, lackeyed by idle dreams and peopled by mistakes.