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Автор: Buchan John
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
Год издания: 0
isbn: 4057664187024
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       John Buchan

      Greenmantle

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4057664187024

       CHAPTER ONE

       A Mission is Proposed

       CHAPTER TWO

       The Gathering of the Missionaries

       CHAPTER THREE

       Peter Pienaar

       CHAPTER FOUR

       Adventures of Two Dutchmen on the Loose

       CHAPTER FIVE

       Further Adventures of the Same

       CHAPTER SIX

       The Indiscretions of the Same

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       Christmastide

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       The Essen Barges

       CHAPTER NINE

       The Return of the Straggler

       CHAPTER TEN

       The Garden-House of Suliman the Red

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       The Companions of the Rosy Hours

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       Four Missionaries See Light in their Mission

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       I Move in Good Society

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       The Lady of the Mantilla

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       An Embarrassed Toilet

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       The Battered Caravanserai

       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

       Trouble by The Waters of Babylon

       CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

       Sparrows on the Housetops

       CHAPTER NINETEEN

       Greenmantle

       CHAPTER TWENTY

       Peter Pienaar Goes to the Wars

       CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

       The Little Hill

       CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

       The Guns of the North

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

      I had just finished breakfast and was filling my pipe when I got Bullivant's telegram. It was at Furling, the big country house in Hampshire where I had come to convalesce after Loos, and Sandy, who was in the same case, was hunting for the marmalade. I flung him the flimsy with the blue strip pasted down on it, and he whistled.

      'Hullo, Dick, you've got the battalion. Or maybe it's a staff billet. You'll be a blighted brass-hat, coming it heavy over the hard-working regimental officer. And to think of the language you've wasted on brass-hats in your time!'

      I sat and thought for a bit, for the name 'Bullivant' carried me back eighteen months to the hot summer before the war. I had not seen the man since, though I had read about him in the papers. For more than a year I had been a busy battalion officer, with no other thought than to hammer a lot of raw stuff into good soldiers. I had succeeded pretty well, and there was no prouder man on earth than Richard Hannay when he took his Lennox