The Dashiell Hammett Collection

The Dashiell Hammett Collection

Dashiell Hammett

Language: English

Pages: 256

ISBN: 2:00089989

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


This volume collects the novel "The Maltese Falcon" and 10 short stories by Dashiell Hammett:
"Too Many Have Lived,"
"They Can Only Hang You Once,"
"A Man Called Space,"
"Afraid of a Gun,"
"The Assistant Murderer,"
"House Dick,"
"Night Shade,"
"The Judge Laughed Last,"
"His Brother's Keeper,"
and "The Man Who Killed Dan Odams."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Better. Pack me some grub. I’m moving on.” “You’re a fool,” she said without spirit as she went into the kitchen. “You’d do better to stay here until your shoulder’s fit to travel.” “Too close to Jingo.” “Ain’t nobody going to fight all that mud to come after you. A horse couldn’t get through, let alone a car. And you don’t think they’d foot it after you even if they knew where to find you, do you? And this rain ain’t going to do your shoulder no good.” She bent to pick up a sack from the

steamed up about?” She chewed the beef and bread in her mouth, swallowed it, looked attentively at the small crescent its removal had made in the sandwich’s rim, and asked: “Suppose I wouldn’t tell you? Suppose I wouldn’t tell you anything at all about it? What would you do?” “You mean about the bird?” “I mean about the whole thing.” “I wouldn’t be too surprised,” he told her, grinning so that the edges of his jaw-teeth were visible, “to know what to do next.” “And that would be?” She

fat man chuckled. “I palmed it?” “Yes,” Spade said, jingling the pistols in his hand. “Do you want to say so or do you want to stand for a frisk?” “Stand for—?” “You’re going to admit it,” Spade said, “or I’m going to search you. There’s no third way.” Gutman looked up at Spade’s hard face and laughed outright. “By Gad, sir, I believe you would. I really do. You’re a character, sir, if you don’t mind my saying so.” “You palmed it,” Spade said. “Yes, sir, that I did.” The fat man took a

him with the book open in her hand. “It was last Wednesday,” she said, “and we delivered it to a Mr. Roger Ferris, 1981 Pacific Avenue.” “Thanks a lot,” he said. Outside, he hailed a taxicab and gave the driver Mr. Roger Ferris’s address… The Pacific Avenue house was a four-story, graystone one set behind a narrow strip of lawn. The room into which a plump-faced maid ushered Spade was large and high-ceiled. Spade sat down, but when the maid had gone away he rose and began to walk around the

She did not look at the two men coming into the room. Dundy spoke to the big-boned woman, while Spade was lighting his cigarette: “We want to ask you a couple of questions, too, Mrs. Hooper. You’re Bliss’s housekeeper, aren’t you?” The woman said, “I am.” Her slightly harsh voice, the level gaze of her deep-set gray eyes, the stillness and size of her hands lying in her lap, all contributed to the impression she gave of resting strength. “What do you know about this?” “I don’t know anything

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