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Suspense
Excerpt from Suspense
All at once she paused tense and alert with lifted chin and quickened breath. The throbbing purr of a motor had pulsed upon the stillness of the snow enwrapped street, and halted with a dull grinding of brakes before the door.
She darted to the window and peered eagerly out between the dingy curtains. A massive limousine stood at the curb, its bulk looming blackly against the lesser darkness, with broad diagonal lines of white striping the lower body, and a rakish torpedo Shaped hood. It was just such a car as a person of somewhat bizarre taste and the wealth with which to gratify it might have chosen, yet had it been a veritable juggernaut its effect upon the girl could have been no more Sinister. She recoiled from the window, her hands clenched, her breast heaving tumultuously, and shadowed as it was, her face seemed distorted into a mere mask of malevolent fury akin to triumph.
Then the small hands relaxed, and with a visible effort at control, She turned toward the door, as laggard feet shuffled along the passageway and a murmur of voices arose.
All at once she paused tense and alert with lifted chin and quickened breath. The throbbing purr of a motor had pulsed upon the stillness of the snow enwrapped street, and halted with a dull grinding of brakes before the door.
She darted to the window and peered eagerly out between the dingy curtains. A massive limousine stood at the curb, its bulk looming blackly against the lesser darkness, with broad diagonal lines of white striping the lower body, and a rakish torpedo Shaped hood. It was just such a car as a person of somewhat bizarre taste and the wealth with which to gratify it might have chosen, yet had it been a veritable juggernaut its effect upon the girl could have been no more Sinister. She recoiled from the window, her hands clenched, her breast heaving tumultuously, and shadowed as it was, her face seemed distorted into a mere mask of malevolent fury akin to triumph.
Then the small hands relaxed, and with a visible effort at control, She turned toward the door, as laggard feet shuffled along the passageway and a murmur of voices arose.
354 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1918
2 people want to read
About the author
Isabel Ostrander
130 books2 followersIsabel Egenton Ostrander (1883–1924) was a mystery writer of the early twentieth century who used, besides her own name, the pseudonyms Robert Orr Chipperfield, David Fox, and Douglas Grant. Christopher B. Booth is sometimes (falsely) credited as a pseudonym of hers.
She was born in New York City to Thomas E Ostrander and Harriet Elizabeth Bradbrook. Her Ostrander pedigree goes back to seventeenth century Kingston, New York.
(wikipedia)
She was born in New York City to Thomas E Ostrander and Harriet Elizabeth Bradbrook. Her Ostrander pedigree goes back to seventeenth century Kingston, New York.
(wikipedia)
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