J. S. Fletcher

“ Linthwaite's mixed up in it.
"So's Mesham, and so, in all likelihood, is Mrs. Byfield. Mr. Linthwaite may have gone off at a moment's notice. He could have gone unobserved, too. Ours is a very busy station. Who'd have taken any particular notice of an elderly gentleman?"
"All wrong," said Brixey. "You're forgetting something. I had certain arrangements with my uncle. Whatever new ones he made he would have acquainted me with. That man we've just seen is a bold liar. ”

“ They belong to the same club—the Selchester Club. Fanshawe Byfield has a very good billiard table at the house in the Minories—he's a great player; so is Mesham. I think that's the bond. Of course, through going to the house to play billiards with the son, Mesham knows the mother."
"If Mesham was an absolute stranger when he came to this town two years ago," asked Brixey, "how did he manage to get elected a member of the Selchester Club?" ”

“ No more truck with the police. Crabbe's no good. We'll solve this matter in our own way. Now listen. You’ll catch the first train to town in the morning. It leaves here just after seven; make your arrangements to-night. You know my uncle and I live in rooms in the Temple—of course, you’ve been there. Go there, Gaffkin. Here’s my key. Examine his papers—you’ll find a desk full, and some boxes full, too, in his room. They’re locked, of course. Call a locksmith in.
"Go right through everything, and see if you can find anything in which either of the names Byfield or Mesham is mentioned. ”