Constance Dunlap - Reeve, Arthur B

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Résumé :
There was something of the look of the hunted animal brought to bay at last in Carlton Dunlap's face as he let himself into his apartment late one night toward the close of the year. On his breath was the lingering odor of whisky, yet in his eye and hand none of the effects. He entered quietly, although there was no apparent reason for such excessive caution. Then he locked the door with the utmost care, although there was no apparent reason for caution about that, either. Even when he had thus barricaded himself, he paused to listen with all the elemental fear of the cave man who dreaded the footsteps of his pursuers. In the dim light of the studio apartment he looked anxiously for the figure of his wife. Constance was not there, as she had been on other nights, uneasily awaiting his return. What was the matter? His hand shook a trifle now as he turned the knob of the bedroom door and pushed it softly open.

Biographie:
The American author Arthur Benjamin Reeve was born on October 15, 1880, and died on August 9, 1936. He is best known for writing 18 mystery books about Professor Craig Kennedy, who is sometimes called The American Sherlock Holmes, and his newspaper reporter sidekick Walter Jameson, who is a lot like Dr. Watson. Most people know Reeve for the 82 Craig Kennedy stories that were in Cosmopolitan magazine from 1910 to 1918. These were put together in a book, and in the third collection, the short stories were released as a series of books. The 12-volume collection Craig Kennedy Stories came out in 1918. It reprinted all of Reeve's books up to that point in a way that made them look like a set. Reeve was born in Brooklyn and went to Princeton and New York Law School. Aside from writing the first Craig Kennedy story in 1911, he worked as an editor and reporter. He grew up in Brooklyn and spent most of his working life at different places near Long Island Sound. In 1932, he moved to Trenton, New Jersey, to be closer to Princeton, where he went to school. It was 1936 when he died in Trenton....

Sommaire:
There was something of the look of the hunted animal brought to bay at last in Carlton Dunlap's face as he let himself into his apartment late one night toward the close of the year. On his breath was the lingering odor of whisky, yet in his eye and hand none of the effects. He entered quietly, although there was no apparent reason for such excessive caution. Then he locked the door with the utmost care, although there was no apparent reason for caution about that, either. Even when he had thus barricaded himself, he paused to listen with all the elemental fear of the cave man who dreaded the footsteps of his pursuers. In the dim light of the studio apartment he looked anxiously for the figure of his wife. Constance was not there, as she had been on other nights, uneasily awaiting his return. What was the matter? His hand shook a trifle now as he turned the knob of the bedroom door and pushed it softly open....