Treason at Lisson Grove

Zusatztext The action is nonstop and the characters ring true.HuntingtonNews.net [Anne] Perry writes with great urgency about the desperate actions of people who believe they're fighting for a just cause. The New York Times Book Review Perry has always done her historical homework on the darker elements of the British ruling class! and she has outdone herself this time by including the queen in her cast of characters. The Washington Times Fascinating . . . Perry brings forth the era [and] the ambience. Asbury Park Press Suspense-filled . . . fast-paced [with] plenty of clues. The Oklahoman Informationen zum Autor Anne Perry Klappentext NATIONAL BESTSELLER The man who lies bleeding to death in a London brickyard is no ordinary drifter but a secret informant with details of an international plot against the British government. Special Branch officer Thomas Pitt, hastening to rendezvous with him, arrives seconds after the knife-wielding assassin-who, in turn, flees on an erratic course that leads Pitt in wild pursuit to picturesque St. Malo on the French coast. Meanwhile, Pitt's supervisor, Victor Narraway, stands accused of embezzling government funds. Since the man who ruined Narraway's career is in Ireland, Pitt's clever wife, Charlotte, agrees to pose as Narraway's sister and accompany him to Dublin to investigate. But unknown to Pitt and Narraway, a shadowy plotter is setting a trap that, once sprung, could destroy not just reputations but the British empire itself. C H A P T E R 1 Tha t's him! Gower yelled above the sound of the traffic. Pitt turned on his heel just in time to see a figure dart between the rear end of a hansom and the oncoming horses of a brewer's dray. Gower disappeared after him, missing a trampling by no more than inches. Pitt plunged into the street, swerving to avoid a brougham and stopping abruptly to let another hansom pass. By the time he reached the far pavement Gower was twenty yards ahead and Pitt could make out only his flying hair. The man he was pursuing was out of sight. Weaving between clerks in pinstripes, leisurely strollers, and the occasional early woman shopper with her long skirts getting in the way, Pitt closed the gap until he was less than a dozen yards behind Gower. He caught a glimpse of the man ahead: bright ginger hair and a green jacket. Then he was gone, and Gower turned, his right hand raised for a moment in signal, before disappearing into an alley. Pitt followed after him into the shadows, his eyes taking a moment or two to adjust. The alley was long and narrow, bending in a dogleg a hundred yards beyond. The gloom was caused by the overhanging eaves and the water-soaked darkness of the brick, long streams of grime running down from the broken guttering. People were huddled in doorways; others made their way slowly, limping, or staggering beneath heavy bolts of cloth, barrels, and bulging sacks. Gower was still ahead, seeming to find his way with ease. Pitt veered around a fat woman with a tray of matches to sell, and tried to catch up. Gower was at least ten years younger, even if his legs were not quite so long, and he was more used to this kind of thing. But it was Pitt's experience in the Metropolitan Police before he joined Special Branch that had led them to finding West, the man they were now chasing. Pitt bumped into an old woman and apologized before regaining his stride. They were around the dogleg now, and he could see West's ginger head making for the opening into the wide thoroughfare forty yards away. Pitt knew that they must catch him before he was swallowed up in the crowds. Gower was almost there. He reached out an arm to grab at West, but just then West ducked sideways and Gower trippe...

“The action is nonstop and the characters ring true.”—HuntingtonNews.net
 
“[Anne] Perry writes with great urgency about the desperate actions of people who believe they’re fighting for a just cause.”—The New York Times Book Review
 
“Perry has always done her historical homework on the darker elements of the British ruling class, and she has outdone herself this time by including the queen in her cast of characters.”—The Washington Times
 
“Fascinating . . . Perry brings forth the era [and] the ambience.”—Asbury Park Press
 
“Suspense-filled . . . fast-paced [with] plenty of clues.”—The Oklahoman

Auteur

Anne Perry

Texte du rabat

NATIONAL BESTSELLER The man who lies bleeding to death in a London brickyard is no ordinary drifter but a secret informant with details of an international plot against the British government. Special Branch officer Thomas Pitt, hastening to rendezvous with him, arrives seconds after the knife-wielding assassin-who, in turn, flees on an erratic course that leads Pitt in wild pursuit to picturesque St. Malo on the French coast. Meanwhile, Pitt's supervisor, Victor Narraway, stands accused of embezzling government funds. Since the man who ruined Narraway's career is in Ireland, Pitt's clever wife, Charlotte, agrees to pose as Narraway's sister and accompany him to Dublin to investigate. But unknown to Pitt and Narraway, a shadowy plotter is setting a trap that, once sprung, could destroy not just reputations but the British empire itself.

Résumé

NATIONAL BESTSELLER
 
The man who lies bleeding to death in a London brickyard is no ordinary drifter but a secret informant with details of an international plot against the British government. Special Branch officer Thomas Pitt, hastening to rendezvous with him, arrives seconds after the knife-wielding assassin—who, in turn, flees on an erratic course that leads Pitt in wild pursuit to picturesque St. Malo on the French coast. Meanwhile, Pitt’s supervisor, Victor Narraway, stands accused of embezzling government funds. Since the man who ruined Narraway’s career is in Ireland, Pitt’s clever wife, Charlotte, agrees to pose as Narraway’s sister and accompany him to Dublin to investigate. But unknown to Pitt and Narraway, a shadowy plotter is setting a trap that, once sprung, could destroy not just reputations but the British empire itself.

Échantillon de lecture
C H A P T E R

1

“Tha t’s him!” Gower yelled above the sound of the traffic. Pitt turned on his heel just in time to see a figure dart between the rear end of a hansom and the oncoming horses of a brewer’s dray. Gower disappeared after him, missing a trampling by no more than inches.

Pitt plunged into the street, swerving to avoid a brougham and stopping abruptly to let another hansom pass. By the time he reached the far pavement Gower was twenty yards ahead and Pitt could make out only his flying hair. The man he was pursuing was out of sight. Weaving between clerks in pinstripes, leisurely strollers, and the occasional early woman shopper with her long skirts getting in the way, Pitt closed the gap until he was less than a dozen yards behind Gower. He caught a glimpse of the man ahead: bright ginger hair and a green jacket. Then he was gone, and Gower turned, his right hand raised for a moment in signal, before disappearing into an alley.

Pitt followed after him into the shadows, his eyes taking a moment or two to adjust. The alley was long and narrow, bending in a dogleg a hundred yards beyond. The gloom was caused by the overhanging eaves and the water-soaked darkness of the brick, long streams of grime running down from the broken guttering. People were huddled in doorways; others made their way slowly, limping, or staggering beneath heavy bolts of cloth, barrels, and bulging sacks.

Gower was still ahead, seeming to find his way with ease. Pitt veered around a fat woman with a tray of matches to sell, and tried to catch up. Gower was at least ten years younger, even if…