The Avenger

      E. Phillips Oppenheim / Mystery & Detective
The Avenger

This whodunit murder mysteries collection brings to you some of Oppenheim's finest murder mysteries to keep you at your toes:The Evil ShepherdMurder at Monte Carlo, or Wolves Amongst the HoneyThe Glenlitten MurderThe Cinema MurderThe Murder of William BlessingCurious Happenings to the Rooke Legatees The MalefactorMichael's Evil DeedsThe Peer and the WomenThe Wicked MarquisThe Man Whom Nobody LikedThe Imperfect CrimeThe AvengerThe SurvivorThe Man Without NervesThe Man Who Changed His PleaE. Phillips Oppenheim, the Prince of Storytellers (1866-1946) was an internationally renowned author of mystery and espionage thrillers. His novels and short stories have all the elements of blood-racing adventure and intrigue and are precursors of modern-day spy fictions.
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    Mr. Marx's Secret

      E. Phillips Oppenheim / Mystery & Detective
Mr. Marxs Secret

Mr. Marx's Secret An engrossing murder mystery story. Edward Phillips Oppenheim (22 October 1866 – 3 February 1946) was an English novelist, in his lifetime a major and successful writer of genre fiction including thrillers.Edward Phillips Oppenheim was born 22 October 1866 in Leicester, the son of Henrietta Susannah Temperley Budd and Edward John Oppenheim, a leather merchant. He worked in his father's business for almost twenty years. He went to Wyggeston Grammar School.Oppenheim's literary success enabled him to buy a villa in France and a yacht, then a house in Guernsey, though he lost access to this during the Second World War. Afterwards he regained the house, le Vanquiédor in St. Peter Port, and he died there on 3 February 1946
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    The Zeppelin's Passenger

      E. Phillips Oppenheim / History & Fiction
The Zeppelins Passenger

"Never heard a sound," the younger of the afternoon callers admitted, getting rid of his empty cup and leaning forward in his low chair. "No more tea, thank you, Miss Fairclough. Done splendidly, thanks. No, I went to bed last night soon after eleven—the Colonel had been route marching us all off our legs—and I never awoke until reveille this morning. Sleep of the just, and all that sort of thing, but a jolly sell, all the same! You hear anything of it, sir?" he asked, turning to his companion, who was seated a few feet away.
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    The Vanished Messenger

      E. Phillips Oppenheim / Mystery & Detective
The Vanished Messenger

There were very few people upon Platform Number Twenty-one of Liverpool Street Station at a quarter to nine on the evening of April 2—possibly because the platform in question is one of the most remote and least used in the great terminus. The station-master, however, was there himself, with an inspector in attendance. A dark, thick-set man, wearing a long travelling ulster and a Homburg hat, and carrying in his hand a brown leather dressing-case, across which was painted in black letters the name MR. JOHN P. DUNSTER, was standing a few yards away, smoking a long cigar, and, to all appearance absorbed in studying the advertisements which decorated the grimy wall on the other side of the single track.
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    The Wicked Marquis

      E. Phillips Oppenheim / Mystery & Detective
The Wicked Marquis

"There is, alas!" Mr. Wadham replied, "no next step." "Exactly what do you mean by that?" the Marquis demanded, knitting his brows slightly as he sipped his sherry. "We have reached the end," the lawyer pronounced. "The decision given by the Court to-day is final." The Marquis set down his glass. The thing was absurd! "Surely," he suggested, "the House of Lords remains?" "Without a doubt, your lordship," Mr. Wadham assented, "but it is of no use to us in the present instance. The judge of the Supreme Court—this is, by-the-by, our third appeal—has delivered a final decision.
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