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Tommy

The Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . TOMMY MAKES A DISCOVERY CHAPTER XXI. TOMMY MAKES A DISCOVERY For a moment or two they stood staring at each other stupidly, dazed with the shock. Somehow, inexplicably, Mr. Brown had forestalled them. Tommy accepted defeat quietly. Not so Julius. “How in tarnation did he get ahead of us? That’s what beats me!” he ended up. Tommy shook his head, and said dully: “It accounts for the stitches being new. We might have guessed....” “Never mind the darned stitches. How did he get ahead of us? We hustled all we knew. It’s downright impossible for anyone to get here quicker than we did. And, anyway, how did he know? Do you reckon there was a dictaphone in Jane’s room? I guess there must have been.” But Tommy’s common sense pointed out objections. “No one could have known beforehand that she was going to be in that house—much less that particular room.” “That’s so,” admitted Julius. “Then one of the nurses was a crook and listened at the door. How’s that?” “I don’t see that it matters anyway,” said Tommy wearily. “He may have found out some months ago, and removed the papers, then——No, by Jove, that won’t wash! They’d have been published at once.” “Sure thing they would! No, some one’s got ahead of us to-day by an hour or so. But how they did it gets my goat.” “I wish that chap Peel Edgerton had been with us,” said Tommy thoughtfully. “Why?” Julius stared. “The mischief was done when we came.” “Yes——” Tommy hesitated. He could not explain his own feeling—the illogical idea that the K.C.‘s presence would somehow have averted the catastrophe. He reverted to his former point of view. “It’s no good arguing about how it was done. The game’s up. We’ve failed. There’s only one thing for me to do.” “What’s that?” “Get back to London as soon as possible. Mr. Carter must be warned. It’s only a matter of hours now before the blow falls. But, at any rate, he ought to know the worst.” The duty was an unpleasant one, but Tommy had no intention of shirking it. He must report his failure to Mr. Carter. After that his work was done. He took the midnight mail to London. Julius elected to stay the night at Holyhead. Half an hour after arrival, haggard and pale, Tommy stood before his chief. “I’ve come to report, sir. I’ve failed—failed badly.” Mr. Carter eyed him sharply. “You mean that the treaty——” “Is in the hands of Mr. Brown, sir.” “Ah!” said Mr. Carter quietly. The expression on his face did not change, but Tommy caught the flicker of despair in his eyes. It convinced him as nothing else had done that the outlook was hopeless. “Well,” said Mr. Carter after a minute or two, “we mustn’t sag at the knees, I suppose. I’m glad to know definitely. We must do what we can.” Through Tommy’s mind flashed the assurance: “It’s hopeless, and he knows it’s hopeless!” The other looked up at him. “Don’t take it to heart, lad,” he said kindly. “You did your best. You were up against one of the biggest brains of the century. And you came very near success. Remember that.” “Thank you, sir. It’s awfully decent of you.” “I blame myself. I have been blaming myself ever since I heard this other news.” Something in his tone attracted Tommy’s attention. A new fear gripped at his heart. “Is there—something more, sir?” “I’m afraid so,” said Mr. Carter gravely. He stretched out his hand to a sheet on the table. “Tuppence——?” faltered Tommy. “Read for yourself.” The typewritten words danced before his eyes. The description of a green toque, a coat with a handkerchief in the pocket marked P.L.C. He looked an agonized question at Mr. Carter. The latter replied to it: “Washed up on the Yorkshire coast—near Ebury. I’m afraid—it looks very much like foul play.” “My God!” gasped Tommy. “Tuppence! Those devils—I’ll never rest till I’ve got even with them! I’ll hunt them down! I’ll——” The pity on Mr. Carter’s face stopped him. “I know what you feel like, my poor boy. But it’s no good. You’ll waste your strength uselessly. It may sound harsh, but my advice to you is: Cut your losses. Time’s merciful. You’ll forget.” “Forget Tuppence? Never!” Mr. Carter shook his head. “So you think now. Well, it won’t bear thinking of—that brave little girl! I’m sorry about the whole business—confoundedly sorry.” Tommy came to himself with a start. “I’m taking up your time, sir,” he said with an effort. “There’s no need for you to blame yourself. I dare say we were a couple of young fools to take on such a job. You warned us all right. But I wish to God I’d been the one to get it in the neck. Good-bye, sir.” Back at the Ritz, Tommy packed up his few belongings mechanically, his thoughts far away. He was still bewildered by the introduction of tragedy into his cheerful commonplace existence. What fun they had had together, he and Tuppence! And now—oh, he couldn’t believe it—it couldn’t be true! Tuppence—dead! Little Tuppence, brimming over with life! It was a dream, a horrible dream. Nothing more. They brought him a note, a few kind words of sympathy from Peel Edgerton, who had read the news in the paper. (There had been a large headline: EX-V.A.D. FEARED DROWNED.) The letter ended with the offer of a post on a ranch in the Argentine, where Sir James had considerable interests. “Kind old beggar,” muttered Tommy, as he flung it aside. The door opened, and Julius burst in with his usual violence. He held an open newspaper in his hand. “Say, what’s all this? They seem to have got some fool idea about Tuppence.” “It’s true,” said Tommy quietly. “You mean they’ve done her in?” Tommy nodded. “I suppose when they got the treaty she—wasn’t any good to them any longer, and they were afraid to let her go.” “Well, I’m darned!” said Julius. “Little Tuppence. She sure was the pluckiest little girl——” But suddenly something seemed to crack in Tommy’s brain. He rose to his feet. “Oh, get out! You don’t really care, damn you! You asked her to marry you in your rotten cold-blooded way, but I loved her. I’d have given the soul out of my body to save her from harm. I’d have stood by without a word and let her marry you, because you could have given her the sort of time she ought to have had, and I was only a poor devil without a penny to bless himself with. But it wouldn’t have been because I didn’t care!” “See here,” began Julius temperately. “Oh, go to the devil! I can’t stand your coming here and talking about ‘little Tuppence.’ Go and look after your cousin. Tuppence is my girl! I’ve always loved her, from the time we played together as kids. We grew up and it was just the same. I shall never forget when I was in hospital, and she came in in that ridiculous cap and apron! It was like a miracle to see the girl I loved turn up in a nurse’s kit——” But Julius interrupted him. “A nurse’s kit! Gee whiz! I must be going to Colney Hatch! I could swear I’ve seen Jane in a nurse’s cap too. And that’s plumb impossible! No, by gum, I’ve got it! It was her I saw talking to Whittington at that nursing home in Bournemouth. She wasn’t a patient there! She was a nurse!” “I dare say,” said Tommy angrily, “she’s probably been in with them from the start. I shouldn’t wonder if she stole those papers from Danvers to begin with.” “I’m darned if she did!” shouted Julius. “She’s my cousin, and as patriotic a girl as ever stepped.” “I don’t care a damn what she is, but get out of here!” retorted Tommy also at the top of his voice. The young men were on the point of coming to blows. But suddenly, with an almost magical abruptness, Julius’s anger abated. “All right, son,” he said quietly, “I’m going. I don’t blame you any for what you’ve been saying. It’s mighty lucky you did say it. I’ve been the most almighty blithering darned idiot that it’s possible to imagine. Calm down”—Tommy had made an impatient gesture—“I’m going right away now—going to the London and North Western Railway depot, if you want to know.” “I don’t care a damn where you’re going,” growled Tommy. As the door closed behind Julius, he returned to his suit-case. “That’s the lot,” he murmured, and rang the bell. “Take my luggage down.” “Yes, sir. Going away, sir?” “I’m going to the devil,” said Tommy, regardless of the menial’s feelings. That functionary, however, merely replied respectfully: “Yes, sir. Shall I call a taxi?” Tommy nodded. Where was he going? He hadn’t the faintest idea. Beyond a fixed determination to get even with Mr. Brown he had no plans. He re-read Sir James’s letter, and shook his head. Tuppence must be avenged. Still, it was kind of the old fellow. “Better answer it, I suppose.” He went across to the writing-table. With the usual perversity of bedroom stationery, there were innumerable envelopes and no paper. He rang. No one came. Tommy fumed at the delay. Then he remembered that there was a good supply in Julius’s sitting-room. The American had announced his immediate departure, there would be no fear of running up against him. Besides, he wouldn’t mind if he did. He was beginning to be rather ashamed of the things he had said. Old Julius had taken them jolly well. He’d apologize if he found him there. But the room was deserted. Tommy walked across to the writing-table, and opened the middle drawer. A photograph, carelessly thrust in face upwards, caught his eye. For a moment he stood rooted to the ground. Then he took it out, shut the drawer, walked slowly over to an arm-chair, and sat down still staring at the photograph in his hand. What on earth was a photograph of the French girl Annette doing in Julius Hersheimmer’s writing-table? About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Agatha Christie (1998). The Secret Adversary. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1155/pg1155-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.

TOMMY MAKES A DISCOVERY

The Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . FURTHER ADVENTURES OF TOMMY CHAPTER XVI. FURTHER ADVENTURES OF TOMMY From a darkness punctuated with throbbing stabs of fire, Tommy dragged his senses slowly back to life. When he at last opened his eyes, he was conscious of nothing but an excruciating pain through his temples. He was vaguely aware of unfamiliar surroundings. Where was he? What had happened? He blinked feebly. This was not his bedroom at the Ritz. And what the devil was the matter with his head? “Damn!” said Tommy, and tried to sit up. He had remembered. He was in that sinister house in Soho. He uttered a groan and fell back. Through his almost-closed lids he reconnoitred carefully. “He is coming to,” remarked a voice very near Tommy’s ear. He recognized it at once for that of the bearded and efficient German, and lay artistically inert. He felt that it would be a pity to come round too soon; and until the pain in his head became a little less acute, he felt quite incapable of collecting his wits. Painfully he tried to puzzle out what had happened. Obviously somebody must have crept up behind him as he listened and struck him down with a blow on the head. They knew him now for a spy, and would in all probability give him short shrift. Undoubtedly he was in a tight place. Nobody knew where he was, therefore he need expect no outside assistance, and must depend solely on his own wits. “Well, here goes,” murmured Tommy to himself, and repeated his former remark. “Damn!” he observed, and this time succeeded in sitting up. In a minute the German stepped forward and placed a glass to his lips, with the brief command “Drink.” Tommy obeyed. The potency of the draught made him choke, but it cleared his brain in a marvellous manner. He was lying on a couch in the room in which the meeting had been held. On one side of him was the German, on the other the villainous-faced doorkeeper who had let him in. The others were grouped together at a little distance away. But Tommy missed one face. The man known as Number One was no longer of the company. “Feel better?” asked the German, as he removed the empty glass. “Yes, thanks,” returned Tommy cheerfully. “Ah, my young friend, it is lucky for you your skull is so thick. The good Conrad struck hard.” He indicated the evil-faced doorkeeper by a nod. The man grinned. Tommy twisted his head round with an effort. “Oh,” he said, “so you’re Conrad, are you? It strikes me the thickness of my skull was lucky for you too. When I look at you I feel it’s almost a pity I’ve enabled you to cheat the hangman.” The man snarled, and the bearded man said quietly: “He would have run no risk of that.” “Just as you like,” replied Tommy. “I know it’s the fashion to run down the police. I rather believe in them myself.” His manner was nonchalant to the last degree. Tommy Beresford was one of those young Englishmen not distinguished by any special intellectual ability, but who are emphatically at their best in what is known as a “tight place.” Their natural diffidence and caution fall from them like a glove. Tommy realized perfectly that in his own wits lay the only chance of escape, and behind his casual manner he was racking his brains furiously. The cold accents of the German took up the conversation: “Have you anything to say before you are put to death as a spy?” “Simply lots of things,” replied Tommy with the same urbanity as before. “Do you deny that you were listening at that door?” “I do not. I must really apologize—but your conversation was so interesting that it overcame my scruples.” “How did you get in?” “Dear old Conrad here.” Tommy smiled deprecatingly at him. “I hesitate to suggest pensioning off a faithful servant, but you really ought to have a better watchdog.” Conrad snarled impotently, and said sullenly, as the man with the beard swung round upon him: “He gave the word. How was I to know?” “Yes,” Tommy chimed in. “How was he to know? Don’t blame the poor fellow. His hasty action has given me the pleasure of seeing you all face to face.” He fancied that his words caused some discomposure among the group, but the watchful German stilled it with a wave of his hand. “Dead men tell no tales,” he said evenly. “Ah,” said Tommy, “but I’m not dead yet!” “You soon will be, my young friend,” said the German. An assenting murmur came from the others. Tommy’s heart beat faster, but his casual pleasantness did not waver. “I think not,” he said firmly. “I should have a great objection to dying.” He had got them puzzled, he saw that by the look on his captor’s face. “Can you give us any reason why we should not put you to death?” asked the German. “Several,” replied Tommy. “Look here, you’ve been asking me a lot of questions. Let me ask you one for a change. Why didn’t you kill me off at once before I regained consciousness?” The German hesitated, and Tommy seized his advantage. “Because you didn’t know how much I knew—and where I obtained that knowledge. If you kill me now, you never will know.” But here the emotions of Boris became too much for him. He stepped forward waving his arms. “You hell-hound of a spy,” he screamed. “We will give you short shrift. Kill him! Kill him!” There was a roar of applause. “You hear?” said the German, his eyes on Tommy. “What have you to say to that?” “Say?” Tommy shrugged his shoulders. “Pack of fools. Let them ask themselves a few questions. How did I get into this place? Remember what dear old Conrad said— with your own password, wasn’t it? How did I get hold of that? You don’t suppose I came up those steps haphazard and said the first thing that came into my head?” Tommy was pleased with the concluding words of this speech. His only regret was that Tuppence was not present to appreciate its full flavour. “That is true,” said the working man suddenly. “Comrades, we have been betrayed!” An ugly murmur arose. Tommy smiled at them encouragingly. “That’s better. How can you hope to make a success of any job if you don’t use your brains?” “You will tell us who has betrayed us,” said the German. “But that shall not save you—oh, no! You shall tell us all that you know. Boris, here, knows pretty ways of making people speak!” “Bah!” said Tommy scornfully, fighting down a singularly unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach. “You will neither torture me nor kill me.” “And why not?” asked Boris. “Because you’d kill the goose that lays the golden eggs,” replied Tommy quietly. There was a momentary pause. It seemed as though Tommy’s persistent assurance was at last conquering. They were no longer completely sure of themselves. The man in the shabby clothes stared at Tommy searchingly. “He’s bluffing you, Boris,” he said quietly. Tommy hated him. Had the man seen through him? The German, with an effort, turned roughly to Tommy. “What do you mean?” “What do you think I mean?” parried Tommy, searching desperately in his own mind. Suddenly Boris stepped forward, and shook his fist in Tommy’s face. “Speak, you swine of an Englishman—speak!” “Don’t get so excited, my good fellow,” said Tommy calmly. “That’s the worst of you foreigners. You can’t keep calm. Now, I ask you, do I look as though I thought there were the least chance of your killing me?” He looked confidently round, and was glad they could not hear the persistent beating of his heart which gave the lie to his words. “No,” admitted Boris at last sullenly, “you do not.” “Thank God, he’s not a mind reader,” thought Tommy. Aloud he pursued his advantage: “And why am I so confident? Because I know something that puts me in a position to propose a bargain.” “A bargain?” The bearded man took him up sharply. “Yes—a bargain. My life and liberty against——” He paused. “Against what?” The group pressed forward. You could have heard a pin drop. Slowly Tommy spoke. “The papers that Danvers brought over from America in the Lusitania.” The effect of his words was electrical. Every one was on his feet. The German waved them back. He leaned over Tommy, his face purple with excitement. “Himmel! You have got them, then?” With magnificent calm Tommy shook his head. “You know where they are?” persisted the German. Again Tommy shook his head. “Not in the least.” “Then—then——” angry and baffled, the words failed him. Tommy looked round. He saw anger and bewilderment on every face, but his calm assurance had done its work—no one doubted but that something lay behind his words. “I don’t know where the papers are—but I believe that I can find them. I have a theory——” “Pah!” Tommy raised his hand, and silenced the clamours of disgust. “I call it a theory—but I’m pretty sure of my facts—facts that are known to no one but myself. In any case what do you lose? If I can produce the papers—you give me my life and liberty in exchange. Is it a bargain?” “And if we refuse?” said the German quietly. Tommy lay back on the couch. “The 29th,” he said thoughtfully, “is less than a fortnight ahead——” For a moment the German hesitated. Then he made a sign to Conrad. “Take him into the other room.” For five minutes, Tommy sat on the bed in the dingy room next door. His heart was beating violently. He had risked all on this throw. How would they decide? And all the while that this agonized questioning went on within him, he talked flippantly to Conrad, enraging the cross-grained doorkeeper to the point of homicidal mania. At last the door opened, and the German called imperiously to Conrad to return. “Let’s hope the judge hasn’t put his black cap on,” remarked Tommy frivolously. “That’s right, Conrad, march me in. The prisoner is at the bar, gentlemen.” The German was seated once more behind the table. He motioned to Tommy to sit down opposite to him. “We accept,” he said harshly, “on terms. The papers must be delivered to us before you go free.” “Idiot!” said Tommy amiably. “How do you think I can look for them if you keep me tied by the leg here?” “What do you expect, then?” “I must have liberty to go about the business in my own way.” The German laughed. “Do you think we are little children to let you walk out of here leaving us a pretty story full of promises?” “No,” said Tommy thoughtfully. “Though infinitely simpler for me, I did not really think you would agree to that plan. Very well, we must arrange a compromise. How would it be if you attached little Conrad here to my person. He’s a faithful fellow, and very ready with the fist.” “We prefer,” said the German coldly, “that you should remain here. One of our number will carry out your instructions minutely. If the operations are complicated, he will return to you with a report and you can instruct him further.” “You’re tying my hands,” complained Tommy. “It’s a very delicate affair, and the other fellow will muff it up as likely as not, and then where shall I be? I don’t believe one of you has got an ounce of tact.” The German rapped the table. “Those are our terms. Otherwise, death!” Tommy leaned back wearily. “I like your style. Curt, but attractive. So be it, then. But one thing is essential, I must see the girl.” “What girl?” “Jane Finn, of course.” The other looked at him curiously for some minutes, then he said slowly, and as though choosing his words with care: “Do you not know that she can tell you nothing?” Tommy’s heart beat a little faster. Would he succeed in coming face to face with the girl he was seeking? “I shall not ask her to tell me anything,” he said quietly. “Not in so many words, that is.” “Then why see her?” Tommy paused. “To watch her face when I ask her one question,” he replied at last. Again there was a look in the German’s eyes that Tommy did not quite understand. “She will not be able to answer your question.” “That does not matter. I shall have seen her face when I ask it.” “And you think that will tell you anything?” He gave a short disagreeable laugh. More than ever, Tommy felt that there was a factor somewhere that he did not understand. The German looked at him searchingly. “I wonder whether, after all, you know as much as we think?” he said softly. Tommy felt his ascendancy less sure than a moment before. His hold had slipped a little. But he was puzzled. What had he said wrong? He spoke out on the impulse of the moment. “There may be things that you know which I do not. I have not pretended to be aware of all the details of your show. But equally I’ve got something up my sleeve that you don’t know about. And that’s where I mean to score. Danvers was a damned clever fellow——” He broke off as if he had said too much. But the German’s face had lightened a little. “Danvers,” he murmured. “I see——” He paused a minute, then waved to Conrad. “Take him away. Upstairs—you know.” “Wait a minute,” said Tommy. “What about the girl?” “That may perhaps be arranged.” “It must be.” “We will see about it. Only one person can decide that.” “Who?” asked Tommy. But he knew the answer. “Mr. Brown——” “Shall I see him?” “Perhaps.” “Come,” said Conrad harshly. Tommy rose obediently. Outside the door his gaoler motioned to him to mount the stairs. He himself followed close behind. On the floor above Conrad opened a door and Tommy passed into a small room. Conrad lit a hissing gas burner and went out. Tommy heard the sound of the key being turned in the lock. He set to work to examine his prison. It was a smaller room than the one downstairs, and there was something peculiarly airless about the atmosphere of it. Then he realized that there was no window. He walked round it. The walls were filthily dirty, as everywhere else. Four pictures hung crookedly on the wall representing scenes from Faust. Marguerite with her box of jewels, the church scene, Siebel and his flowers, and Faust and Mephistopheles. The latter brought Tommy’s mind back to Mr. Brown again. In this sealed and closed chamber, with its close-fitting heavy door, he felt cut off from the world, and the sinister power of the arch-criminal seemed more real. Shout as he would, no one could ever hear him. The place was a living tomb.... With an effort Tommy pulled himself together. He sank on to the bed and gave himself up to reflection. His head ached badly; also, he was hungry. The silence of the place was dispiriting. “Anyway,” said Tommy, trying to cheer himself, “I shall see the chief—the mysterious Mr. Brown and with a bit of luck in bluffing I shall see the mysterious Jane Finn also. After that——” After that Tommy was forced to admit the prospect looked dreary. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Agatha Christie (1998). The Secret Adversary. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1155/pg1155-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.

FURTHER ADVENTURES OF TOMMY

The Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . THE ADVENTURES OF TOMMY CHAPTER VIII. THE ADVENTURES OF TOMMY Taken aback though he was by the man’s words, Tommy did not hesitate. If audacity had successfully carried him so far, it was to be hoped it would carry him yet farther. He quietly passed into the house and mounted the ramshackle staircase. Everything in the house was filthy beyond words. The grimy paper, of a pattern now indistinguishable, hung in loose festoons from the wall. In every angle was a grey mass of cobweb. Tommy proceeded leisurely. By the time he reached the bend of the staircase, he had heard the man below disappear into a back room. Clearly no suspicion attached to him as yet. To come to the house and ask for “Mr. Brown” appeared indeed to be a reasonable and natural proceeding. At the top of the stairs Tommy halted to consider his next move. In front of him ran a narrow passage, with doors opening on either side of it. From the one nearest him on the left came a low murmur of voices. It was this room which he had been directed to enter. But what held his glance fascinated was a small recess immediately on his right, half concealed by a torn velvet curtain. It was directly opposite the left-handed door and, owing to its angle, it also commanded a good view of the upper part of the staircase. As a hiding-place for one or, at a pinch, two men, it was ideal, being about two feet deep and three feet wide. It attracted Tommy mightily. He thought things over in his usual slow and steady way, deciding that the mention of “Mr. Brown” was not a request for an individual, but in all probability a password used by the gang. His lucky use of it had gained him admission. So far he had aroused no suspicion. But he must decide quickly on his next step. Suppose he were boldly to enter the room on the left of the passage. Would the mere fact of his having been admitted to the house be sufficient? Perhaps a further password would be required, or, at any rate, some proof of identity. The doorkeeper clearly did not know all the members of the gang by sight, but it might be different upstairs. On the whole it seemed to him that luck had served him very well so far, but that there was such a thing as trusting it too far. To enter that room was a colossal risk. He could not hope to sustain his part indefinitely; sooner or later he was almost bound to betray himself, and then he would have thrown away a vital chance in mere foolhardiness. A repetition of the signal knock sounded on the door below, and Tommy, his mind made up, slipped quickly into the recess, and cautiously drew the curtain farther across so that it shielded him completely from sight. There were several rents and slits in the ancient material which afforded him a good view. He would watch events, and any time he chose could, after all, join the assembly, modelling his behaviour on that of the new arrival. The man who came up the staircase with a furtive, soft-footed tread was quite unknown to Tommy. He was obviously of the very dregs of society. The low beetling brows, and the criminal jaw, the bestiality of the whole countenance were new to the young man, though he was a type that Scotland Yard would have recognized at a glance. The man passed the recess, breathing heavily as he went. He stopped at the door opposite, and gave a repetition of the signal knock. A voice inside called out something, and the man opened the door and passed in, affording Tommy a momentary glimpse of the room inside. He thought there must be about four or five people seated round a long table that took up most of the space, but his attention was caught and held by a tall man with close-cropped hair and a short, pointed, naval-looking beard, who sat at the head of the table with papers in front of him. As the new-comer entered he glanced up, and with a correct, but curiously precise enunciation, which attracted Tommy’s notice, he asked: “Your number, comrade?” “Fourteen, gov’nor,” replied the other hoarsely. “Correct.” The door shut again. “If that isn’t a Hun, I’m a Dutchman!” said Tommy to himself. “And running the show darned systematically too—as they always do. Lucky I didn’t roll in. I’d have given the wrong number, and there would have been the deuce to pay. No, this is the place for me. Hullo, here’s another knock.” This visitor proved to be of an entirely different type to the last. Tommy recognized in him an Irish Sinn Feiner. Certainly Mr. Brown’s organization was a far-reaching concern. The common criminal, the well-bred Irish gentleman, the pale Russian, and the efficient German master of the ceremonies! Truly a strange and sinister gathering! Who was this man who held in his finger these curiously variegated links of an unknown chain? In this case, the procedure was exactly the same. The signal knock, the demand for a number, and the reply “Correct.” Two knocks followed in quick succession on the door below. The first man was quite unknown to Tommy, who put him down as a city clerk. A quiet, intelligent-looking man, rather shabbily dressed. The second was of the working classes, and his face was vaguely familiar to the young man. Three minutes later came another, a man of commanding appearance, exquisitely dressed, and evidently well born. His face, again, was not unknown to the watcher, though he could not for the moment put a name to it. After his arrival there was a long wait. In fact Tommy concluded that the gathering was now complete, and was just cautiously creeping out from his hiding-place, when another knock sent him scuttling back to cover. This last-comer came up the stairs so quietly that he was almost abreast of Tommy before the young man had realized his presence. He was a small man, very pale, with a gentle almost womanish air. The angle of the cheek-bones hinted at his Slavonic ancestry, otherwise there was nothing to indicate his nationality. As he passed the recess, he turned his head slowly. The strange light eyes seemed to burn through the curtain; Tommy could hardly believe that the man did not know he was there and in spite of himself he shivered. He was no more fanciful than the majority of young Englishmen, but he could not rid himself of the impression that some unusually potent force emanated from the man. The creature reminded him of a venomous snake. A moment later his impression was proved correct. The new-comer knocked on the door as all had done, but his reception was very different. The bearded man rose to his feet, and all the others followed suit. The German came forward and shook hands. His heels clicked together. “We are honoured,” he said. “We are greatly honoured. I much feared that it would be impossible.” The other answered in a low voice that had a kind of hiss in it: “There were difficulties. It will not be possible again, I fear. But one meeting is essential—to define my policy. I can do nothing without—Mr. Brown. He is here?” The change in the German’s voice was audible as he replied with slight hesitation: “We have received a message. It is impossible for him to be present in person.” He stopped, giving a curious impression of having left the sentence unfinished. A very slow smile overspread the face of the other. He looked round at a circle of uneasy faces. “Ah! I understand. I have read of his methods. He works in the dark and trusts no one. But, all the same, it is possible that he is among us now....” He looked round him again, and again that expression of fear swept over the group. Each man seemed eyeing his neighbour doubtfully. The Russian tapped his cheek. “So be it. Let us proceed.” The German seemed to pull himself together. He indicated the place he had been occupying at the head of the table. The Russian demurred, but the other insisted. “It is the only possible place,” he said, “for—Number One. Perhaps Number Fourteen will shut the door?” In another moment Tommy was once more confronting bare wooden panels, and the voices within had sunk once more to a mere undistinguishable murmur. Tommy became restive. The conversation he had overheard had stimulated his curiosity. He felt that, by hook or by crook, he must hear more. There was no sound from below, and it did not seem likely that the doorkeeper would come upstairs. After listening intently for a minute or two, he put his head round the curtain. The passage was deserted. Tommy bent down and removed his shoes, then, leaving them behind the curtain, he walked gingerly out on his stockinged feet, and kneeling down by the closed door he laid his ear cautiously to the crack. To his intense annoyance he could distinguish little more; just a chance word here and there if a voice was raised, which merely served to whet his curiosity still farther. He eyed the handle of the door tentatively. Could he turn it by degrees so gently and imperceptibly that those in the room would notice nothing? He decided that with great care it could be done. Very slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, he moved it round, holding his breath in his excessive care. A little more—a little more still—would it never be finished? Ah! at last it would turn no farther. He stayed so for a minute or two, then drew a deep breath, and pressed it ever so slightly inward. The door did not budge. Tommy was annoyed. If he had to use too much force, it would almost certainly creak. He waited until the voices rose a little, then he tried again. Still nothing happened. He increased the pressure. Had the beastly thing stuck? Finally, in desperation, he pushed with all his might. But the door remained firm, and at last the truth dawned upon him. It was locked or bolted on the inside. For a moment or two Tommy’s indignation got the better of him. “Well, I’m damned!” he said. “What a dirty trick!” As his indignation cooled, he prepared to face the situation. Clearly the first thing to be done was to restore the handle to its original position. If he let it go suddenly, the men inside would be almost certain to notice it, so, with the same infinite pains, he reversed his former tactics. All went well, and with a sigh of relief the young man rose to his feet. There was a certain bulldog tenacity about Tommy that made him slow to admit defeat. Checkmated for the moment, he was far from abandoning the conflict. He still intended to hear what was going on in the locked room. As one plan had failed, he must hunt about for another. He looked round him. A little farther along the passage on the left was a second door. He slipped silently along to it. He listened for a moment or two, then tried the handle. It yielded, and he slipped inside. The room, which was untenanted, was furnished as a bedroom. Like everything else in the house, the furniture was falling to pieces, and the dirt was, if anything, more abundant. But what interested Tommy was the thing he had hoped to find, a communicating door between the two rooms, up on the left by the window. Carefully closing the door into the passage behind him, he stepped across to the other and examined it closely. The bolt was shot across it. It was very rusty, and had clearly not been used for some time. By gently wriggling it to and fro, Tommy managed to draw it back without making too much noise. Then he repeated his former manœuvres with the handle—this time with complete success. The door swung open—a crack, a mere fraction, but enough for Tommy to hear what went on. There was a velvet portière on the inside of this door which prevented him from seeing, but he was able to recognize the voices with a reasonable amount of accuracy. The Sinn Feiner was speaking. His rich Irish voice was unmistakable: “That’s all very well. But more money is essential. No money—no results!” Another voice which Tommy rather thought was that of Boris replied: “Will you guarantee that there are results?” “In a month from now—sooner or later as you wish—I will guarantee you such a reign of terror in Ireland as shall shake the British Empire to its foundations.” There was a pause, and then came the soft, sibilant accents of Number One: “Good! You shall have the money. Boris, you will see to that.” Boris asked a question: “Via the Irish Americans, and Mr. Potter as usual?” “I guess that’ll be all right!” said a new voice, with a transatlantic intonation, “though I’d like to point out, here and now, that things are getting a mite difficult. There’s not the sympathy there was, and a growing disposition to let the Irish settle their own affairs without interference from America.” Tommy felt that Boris had shrugged his shoulders as he answered: “Does that matter, since the money only nominally comes from the States?” “The chief difficulty is the landing of the ammunition,” said the Sinn Feiner. “The money is conveyed in easily enough—thanks to our colleague here.” Another voice, which Tommy fancied was that of the tall, commanding-looking man whose face had seemed familiar to him, said: “Think of the feelings of Belfast if they could hear you!” “That is settled, then,” said the sibilant tones. “Now, in the matter of the loan to an English newspaper, you have arranged the details satisfactorily, Boris?” “I think so.” “That is good. An official denial from Moscow will be forthcoming if necessary.” There was a pause, and then the clear voice of the German broke the silence: “I am directed by—Mr. Brown, to place the summaries of the reports from the different unions before you. That of the miners is most satisfactory. We must hold back the railways. There may be trouble with the A.S.E.” For a long time there was a silence, broken only by the rustle of papers and an occasional word of explanation from the German. Then Tommy heard the light tap-tap of fingers, drumming on the table. “And—the date, my friend?” said Number One. “The 29th.” The Russian seemed to consider: “That is rather soon.” “I know. But it was settled by the principal Labour leaders, and we cannot seem to interfere too much. They must believe it to be entirely their own show.” The Russian laughed softly, as though amused. “Yes, yes,” he said. “That is true. They must have no inkling that we are using them for our own ends. They are honest men—and that is their value to us. It is curious—but you cannot make a revolution without honest men. The instinct of the populace is infallible.” He paused, and then repeated, as though the phrase pleased him: “Every revolution has had its honest men. They are soon disposed of afterwards.” There was a sinister note in his voice. The German resumed: “Clymes must go. He is too far-seeing. Number Fourteen will see to that.” There was a hoarse murmur. “That’s all right, gov’nor.” And then after a moment or two: “Suppose I’m nabbed.” “You will have the best legal talent to defend you,” replied the German quietly. “But in any case you will wear gloves fitted with the finger-prints of a notorious housebreaker. You have little to fear.” “Oh, I ain’t afraid, gov’nor. All for the good of the cause. The streets is going to run with blood, so they say.” He spoke with a grim relish. “Dreams of it, sometimes, I does. And diamonds and pearls rolling about in the gutter for anyone to pick up!” Tommy heard a chair shifted. Then Number One spoke: “Then all is arranged. We are assured of success?” “I—think so.” But the German spoke with less than his usual confidence. Number One’s voice held suddenly a dangerous quality: “What has gone wrong?” “Nothing; but——” “But what?” “The Labour leaders. Without them, as you say, we can do nothing. If they do not declare a general strike on the 29th——” “Why should they not?” “As you’ve said, they’re honest. And, in spite of everything we’ve done to discredit the Government in their eyes, I’m not sure that they haven’t got a sneaking faith and belief in it.” “But——” “I know. They abuse it unceasingly. But, on the whole, public opinion swings to the side of the Government. They will not go against it.” Again the Russian’s fingers drummed on the table. “To the point, my friend. I was given to understand that there was a certain document in existence which assured success.” “That is so. If that document were placed before the leaders, the result would be immediate. They would publish it broadcast throughout England, and declare for the revolution without a moment’s hesitation. The Government would be broken finally and completely.” “Then what more do you want?” “The document itself,” said the German bluntly. “Ah! It is not in your possession? But you know where it is?” “No.” “Does anyone know where it is?” “One person—perhaps. And we are not sure of that even.” “Who is this person?” “A girl.” Tommy held his breath. “A girl?” The Russian’s voice rose contemptuously. “And you have not made her speak? In Russia we have ways of making a girl talk.” “This case is different,” said the German sullenly. “How—different?” He paused a moment, then went on: “Where is the girl now?” “The girl?” “Yes.” “She is——” But Tommy heard no more. A crashing blow descended on his head, and all was darkness. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Agatha Christie (1998). The Secret Adversary. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1155/pg1155-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.

THE ADVENTURES OF TOMMY

David Copperfield: Chapter 27 - Tommy Traddles

Deep Lake, a Lakehouse for Deep Learning: Conclusions, Acknowledgement, and References

গভীর লেক, গভীর শিক্ষার জন্য একটি লেকহাউস: উপসংহার, স্বীকৃতি, এবং উল্লেখ

Deep Lake, ein Lakehouse für Deep Learning: Schlussfolgerungen, Danksagungen und Referenzen

Deep Lake, una casa de lago para el aprendizaje profundo: conclusiones, reconocimientos y referencias

Deep Lake, un Lakehouse pour le Deep Learning : conclusions, remerciements et références

डीप लेक, डीप लर्निंग के लिए एक लेकहाउस: निष्कर्ष, स्वीकृति और संदर्भ

ディープラーニングのためのレイクハウス、Deep Lake: 結論、謝辞、参考文献

딥 러닝을 위한 레이크하우스인 Deep Lake: 결론, 감사의 말씀, 참고 자료

Deep Lake, um Lakehouse para Deep Learning: Conclusões, Reconhecimento e Referências

Deep Lake, домик у озера для глубокого обучения: выводы, признательность и ссылки

Deep Lake, Derin Öğrenme için Bir Göl Evi: Sonuçlar, Teşekkür ve Referanslar

Deep Lake, Lakehouse cho Deep Learning: Kết luận, Lời cảm ơn và Tài liệu tham khảo

Deep Lake，深度学习的 Lakehouse：结论、致谢和参考文献

This is paper is available on arxiv under CC 4.0 DEED license. Authors: (1) Leah Chrestien, Czech Technical University in Prague; (2) Tomá˘s Pevný, Czech Technical University in Prague, and Gen Digital, Inc.; (3) Stefan Edelkamp, Czech Technical University in Prague; (4) Antonín Komenda, Czech Technical University in Prague. Table of Links Abstract & Introduction Preliminaries Conditions on strictly optimally efficient heuristic Loss functions Related Work Experiments Conclusion and References Appendix 7 Conclusion The motivation of this paper stemmed from the observation that even the cost-to-goal, considered to be an optimal heuristic, fails to guarantee a strictly optimally efficient search. Since a large body of existing research optimizes this quantity, we are effectively lost with respect to what should be optimized. To fill this gap, we have stated the necessary and sufficient conditions guaranteeing the forward search to be strictly optimally efficient. These conditions show that the absolute value of the heuristic is not important, but that the ranking of states in the Open list is what controls the efficiency. Ranking can be optimized by minimizing the ranking loss functions, but its concrete implementation needs to correspond to a variant of the forward search. In case of mismatch, the resulting heuristic can perform poorly, which has been demonstrated when the heuristic optimized for BGFS search was used with A* search. The other benefit of ranking losses is that from the point of view of statistical learning theory, they solve a simpler problem than ubiquitous regression in estimating the cost-to-goal. We do not question the existence of a strictly optimally efficient heuristic. Given our experiments, we believe that if the space of heuristic functions over which the loss is optimized is sufficiently rich, the result will be sufficiently close to the optimal for the needs of the search. 7.1 Acknowledgements This work has been supported by project numbers 22-32620S and 22-30043S from Czech Science Foundation and OP VVV project CZ.02.1.01/0.0/0.0/16_019/0000765 "Research Center for Informatics". This work has also received funding from the European Union’s Horizon Europe Research and Innovation program under the grant agreement TUPLES No 101070149. References [1] Forest Agostinelli, Stephen McAleer, Alexander Shmakov, and Pierre Baldi. Solving the rubik’s cube with deep reinforcement learning and search. Nature Machine Intelligence, 1(8):356–363, 2019. [2] Thomas Anthony, Zheng Tian, and David Barber. Thinking fast and slow with deep learning and tree search. In Isabelle Guyon, Ulrike von Luxburg, Samy Bengio, Hanna M. Wallach, Rob Fergus, S. V. N. Vishwanathan, and Roman Garnett, editors, Advances in Neural Information Processing Systems 30: Annual Conference on Neural Information Processing Systems 2017, December 4-9, 2017, Long Beach, CA, USA, pages 5360–5370, 2017. [3] Shahab Jabbari Arfaee, Sandra Zilles, and Robert C Holte. Learning heuristic functions for large state spaces. Artificial Intelligence, 175(16-17):2075–2098, 2011. [4] Jeff Bezanson, Alan Edelman, Stefan Karpinski, and Viral B Shah. Julia: A fresh approach to numerical computing. SIAM review, 59(1):65–98, 2017. [5] Mohak Bhardwaj, Sanjiban Choudhury, and Sebastian Scherer. Learning heuristic search via imitation. In Conference on Robot Learning, pages 271–280. PMLR, 2017. [6] Blai Bonet and Héctor Geffner. Planning as heuristic search. Artificial Intelligence. 2001 Jun; 129 (1-2): 5-33., 2001. [7] Vladimir Cherkassky, Xuhui Shao, Filip M Mulier, and Vladimir N Vapnik. Model complexity control for regression using vc generalization bounds. 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Optimize Planning Heuristics to Rank, not to Estimate Cost-to-Goal: Conclusion and References

Let's learn about via these 65 free stories. They are ordered by most time reading created on HackerNoon. Visit the to find the most read stories about any technology. David Copperfield /Learn Repo 1. David Copperfield: PREFACE TO THE CHARLES DICKENS EDITION David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens is part of HackerNoon’s Book Blog Post series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here: [LINK TO TABLE OF LINK]. PREFACE TO THE CHARLES DICKENS EDITION 2. David Copperfield: Chapter 31 -  A Greater Loss For years and years, Mr. Barkis had carried this box, on all his journeys, every day. 3. David Copperfield: Chapter 40 - The Wanderer The wind had gone down with the light, and so the snow had come on. It was a heavy, settled fall, I recollect, in great flakes; and it lay thick. 4. David Copperfield: Chapter 37 - A Little Cold Water My new life had lasted for more than a week, and I was stronger than ever in those tremendous practical resolutions that I felt the crisis required. 5. David Copperfield: Chapter 24 - My First Dissipation It was fine in the morning, particularly in the fine mornings. It looked a very fresh, free life, by daylight: still fresher, and more free, by sunlight. 6. David Copperfield: Chapter 30 - A Loss ‘Why, bless my life and soul!’ said Mr. Omer, ‘how do you find yourself? Take a seat.—-Smoke not disagreeable, I hope?’ 7. David Copperfield: Chapter 64 - A Last  Retrospect And now my written story ends. I look back, once more—for the last time—before I close these leaves. 8. David Copperfield: Chapter 20 - Steerforth's Home It was no matter of wonder to me to find Mrs. Steerforth devoted to her son. 9. David Copperfield: Chapter 6 - I Enlarge My Circle of Acquaintance One day I was informed by Mr. Mell that Mr. Creakle would be home that evening. 10. David Copperfield: Chapter 15 - I Make Another Beginning Mr. Dick and I soon became the best of friends, and very often, when his day’s work was done, went out together to fly the great kite. 11. David Copperfield: Chapter 29 - I Visit Steerforth At His Home, Again I mentioned to Mr. Spenlow in the morning, that I wanted leave of absence for a short time 12. David Copperfield: Chapter 12 - Liking Life On My Own Account No Better, I Form A Great Resolution In due time, Mr. Micawber’s petition was ripe for hearing; and that gentleman was ordered to be discharged under the Act, to my great joy. 13. David Copperfield: Chapter 50 - Mr. Peggotty's Dream Comes True A fearful cry followed the word. I paused a moment, and looking in, saw him supporting her insensible figure in his arms. 14. David Copperfield: Chapter 18 - A Retrospect But who is this that breaks upon me? This is Miss Shepherd, whom I love. 15. David Copperfield: Chapter 2 - I Observe There comes out of the cloud, our house—not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. 16. David Copperfield: Chapter 47 - Martha A glimpse of the river through a dull gateway, where some waggons were housed for the night, seemed to arrest my feet. 17. David Copperfield: Chapter 60 - Agnes ‘You will find her,’ pursued my aunt, ‘as good, as beautiful, as earnest, as disinterested, as she has always been. 18. David Copperfield: Chapter 58 - Absence I left all who were dear to me, and went away; and believed that I had borne it, and it was past. 19. David Copperfield: Chapter 1 Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. 20. David Copperfield: Chapter 56 - The New Wound , And The Old From the first moment of her dark eyes resting on me, I saw she knew I was the bearer of evil tidings. 21. David Copperfield: Chapter 57 - The Emigrants It was, to conceal what had occurred, from those who were going away; and to dismiss them on their voyage in happy ignorance. In this, no time was to be lost. 22. David Copperfield: Chapter 38 - A Dissolution Of Partnership I forgot them; while I was picking them up, I dropped the other fragments of the system; in short, it was almost heart-breaking. 23. David Copperfield: Chapter 34 - My Aunt Astonishes Me As if, in love, joy, sorrow, hope, or disappointment; in all emotions; my heart turned naturally there, and found its refuge and best friend. 24. David Copperfield: Chapter 63 - A Visitor I had advanced in fame and fortune, my domestic joy was perfect, I had been married ten happy years. 25. David Copperfield: Chapter 26 - I Fall Into Captivity I could not get over this farewell glimpse of them for a long time. 26. David Copperfield: Chapter 9 - I Have A Memorable Birthday I PASS over all that happened at school, until the anniversary of my birthday came round in March. 27. David Copperfield - TABLE OF LINKS David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens is part of the HackerNoon Books series. Read this book online for free on HackerNoon! 28. David Copperfield: Chapter 55 - Tempest ‘Good-bye for ever. Now, my dear, my friend, good-bye for ever in this world. 29. David Copperfield: Chapter 43 - Another Retrospect Once again, let me pause upon a memorable period of my life. Let me stand aside, to see the phantoms of those days go by me, accompanying the shadow of myself. 30. David Copperfield: Chapter 46 - Intelligence The vaunting cruelty with which she met my glance, I never saw expressed in any other face that ever I have seen. 31. David Copperfield: Chapter 44 - Our Housekeeping —all the romance of our engagement put away upon a shelf, to rust—no one to please but one another—one another to please, for life. 32. David Copperfield: Chapter 45 - Mr. Dick Fulfils My Aunt's Predictions She was exactly the same as ever, and the same immortal butterflies hovered over her cap. 33. David Copperfield: Chapter 14 - My Aunt Makes Up Her Mind About Me My spirits sank under these words, and I became very downcast and heavy of heart. 34. David Copperfield: Chapter 61 - I am Shown Two Interesting Penitents This sentiment gave unbounded satisfaction—greater satisfaction, I think, than anything that had passed yet. 35. David Copperfield: Chapter 62 - A Light Shines On My Way She did not once show me any change in herself. What she always had been to me, she still was; wholly unaltered. 36. David Copperfield: Chapter 11 - I Begin Life On My Own Account, And Don't Like It I know enough of the world now, to have almost lost the capacity of being much surprised by anything 37. David Copperfield: Chapter 53 - Another Retrospect I try to stay my tears, and to reply, ‘Oh, Dora, love, as fit as I to be a husband!’ 38. David Copperfield: Chapter 4 - I Fall Into Disgrace He drew her to him, whispered in her ear, and kissed her. 39. David Copperfield: Chapter 33 -  Blissful Her idea was my refuge in disappointment and distress, and made some amends to me, even for the loss of my friend. 40. David Copperfield: Chapter 27 - Tommy Traddles The general air of the place reminded me forcibly of the days when I lived with Mr. and Mrs. Micawber. 41. David Copperfield: Chapter 19 - I Look About Me, And Make A Discovery I am doubtful whether I was at heart glad or sorry, when my school-days drew to an end, and the time came for my leaving Doctor Strong’s. 42. David Copperfield: Chapter 48 -Domestic It is not my purpose, in this record, though in all other essentials it is my written memory, to pursue the history of my own fictions. 43. David Copperfield: Chapter 59 - Return I have often remarked—I suppose everybody has—that one’s going away from a familiar place, would seem to be the signal for change in it. 44. David Copperfield: Chapter 51 - The Beginning Of A Longer Journey And Mrs. Gummidge took his hand, and kissed it with a homely pathos and affection, in a homely rapture of devotion and gratitude, that he well deserved. 45. David Copperfield: Chapter 36 - Enthusiasm With the new life, came new purpose, new intention. Great was the labour; priceless the reward. Dora was the reward, and Dora must be won. 46. David Copperfield: Chapter  7 - My 'First Half' at Salem House Not that I mean to say these were special marks of distinction, which only I received. 47. David Copperfield: Chapter 32 - The Beginning Of A Long Journey What is natural in me, is natural in many other men, I infer, and so I am not afraid to write that I never had loved Steerforth 48. David Copperfield: Chapter 54 - Mr. Micawber's Transactions ‘Now’s the day, and now’s the hour,
See the front of battle lower,
See approach proud EDWARD’S power—
Chains and slavery! 49. David Copperfield: Chapter 23 - I Corroborate Mr. Dick, And Choose A Propession When I awoke in the morning I thought very much of little Em’ly, and her emotion last night, after Martha had left. 50. David Copperfield: Chapter 16 - I am A New Boy in More Senses Than One Next morning, after breakfast, I entered on school life again. I went, accompanied by Mr. Wickfield, to the scene of my future studies 51. David Copperfield: Chapter 42 -Mischief My meaning simply is, that whatever I have tried to do in life, I have tried with all my heart to do well; 52. David Copperfield: Chapter 28 - Mr. Micawber's Gauntlet Until the day arrived on which I was to entertain my newly-found old friends, I lived principally on Dora and coffee. 53. David Copperfield: Chapter 17 - Somebody Turns Up ‘I suppose history never lies, does it?’ said Mr. Dick, with a gleam of hope. 54. David Copperfield: Chapter 49 - I am Involved In My Mystery I never saw a man so hot in my life. I tried to calm him, that we might come to something rational; but he got hotter and hotter, and wouldn’t hear a word. 55. David Copperfield: Chapter 3 - I Have A Change If it had been Aladdin’s palace, roc’s egg and all, I suppose I could not have been more charmed with the romantic idea of living in it. 56. David Copperfield: Chapter 8 - My Holidays. Especially One Happy Afternoon ‘The message was right enough, perhaps,’ said Mr. Barkis; ‘but it come to an end there.’ 57. David Copperfield: Chapter 41 - Dora's Aunts His honest face, as he looked at me with a serio-comic shake of his head, impresses me more in the remembrance than it did in the reality. 58. David Copperfield: Chapter 35 - Depression ‘My dear,’ said my aunt, after taking a spoonful of it; ‘it’s a great deal better than wine. Not half so bilious.’ 59. David Copperfield: Chapter 21 - Little Em'ly Such a self-contained man I never saw. 60. David Copperfield: Chapter 5 - I am Sent Away From Home We might have gone about half a mile, and my pocket-handkerchief was quite wet through, when the carrier stopped short. 61. David Copperfield: Chapter 22 - Some Old Scenes, And Some New People Steerforth and I stayed for more than a fortnight in that part of the country. 62. David Copperfield: Chapter 13 -  The Sequel Of My Resolution A plan had occurred to me for passing the night, which I was going to carry into execution. 63. David Copperfield: Chapter 52 - I Assist At An Explosion I saw, in my aunt’s face, that she began to give way now, and Dora brightened again, as she saw it too. 64. David Copperfield: Chapter 25 - Good And Bad Angles I could scarcely lay claim to the name: I was so disturbed by the conviction that the letter came from Agnes. 65. David Copperfield: Chapter 39 - Wickfield And Heep ‘My dear Copperfield, a man who labours under the pressure of pecuniary embarrassments, is, with the generality of people, at a disadvantage. Thank you for checking out the 65 most read stories about David Copperfield on HackerNoon. to find the most read stories about any technology. Visit the /Learn Repo

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