Royal Flash (Flashman)
George MacDonald Fraser
Language: English
Pages: 256
ISBN: 0452261120
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
In Volume II of the Flashman Papers, Flashman tangles with femme fatale Lola Montez and the dastardly Otto Von Bismarck in a battle of wits which will decide the destiny of a continent. In this volume of The Flashman Papers, Flashman, the arch-cad and toady, matches his wits, his talents for deceit and malice, and above all his speed in evasion against the most brilliant European statesman and against the most beauiful and unscrupulous adventuress of the era. From London gaming-halls and English hunting-fields to European dungeons and throne-rooms, he is involved in a desperate succession of escapes, disguises, amours and (when he cannot avoid them) hand-to-hand combats. All the while, the destiny of a continent rests on his broad and failing shoulders.
sound. Men's and women's voices were coming from the doorway of one of the houses; there was laughter and cries of goodnight, some chattering on the pavement and the sound of footsteps. I held my breath, my heart pounding, and then the carriage door opened, light came in, and I found myself staring into the surprised face of one of the loveliest girls I have ever seen in my life. No—the loveliest. When I look back and review the beautiful women I have known, blonde and dark, slim and buxom,
"Oh, stop it, Otto," says the lady suddenly. "Really, sergeant, it's too bad of him; he's making game of you. This gentleman is with us." "Rosanna!" The fair man looked outraged. "What are you thinking of? Sergeant, I—" "Don't play the fool, Otto," says I, taking my cue, and delighted to have my hand squeezed by the lady. "Come on, man, get in and let's be off home. I'm tired." He gave me a look of utter fury, and then a fine altercation broke out between him and the sergeant, which the lady
sweat to be off, so in the end Rudi cursed and grinned and let me keep them. He knew I wouldn't be fool enough to make a bolt for it now. With de Gautet leading, Rudi and I behind, and two of the others in the rear, we struck out through the trees, plodding ankle-deep through the snow. It was still as death all round, and hellish dark, but de Gautet led on unerringly for perhaps quarter of an hour, when we came to a high stone wall running across our front. There was a wicket, and then we were
try to repay me with cold steel, or run a mile next time I looked at them. But with Irma, for some reason, it had quite the opposite effect; I can say that from that night on, as long as I knew her, she treated me with something near to worship. Which shows you how stupid a love-struck young woman can be. All this, of course, made for a most happy sojourn at Strelhow. There was plenty to do during the day, what with picnic parties— for although some snow still lay, it was pleasantly warm for the
"Damned bad form. Didn't they teach you manners at that English school of yours?" I made a dart towards the dungeon passage, but with a speed that astonished me, considering the wound on his head, he bounded off the step and was there before me, slashing at me so close that I had to leap back out of harm's way. He laughed savagely and feinted to lunge, tossing the curls out of his eyes. "Not quick enough, were we? It isn't de Gautet this time, you know." I circled away from him, and he