J. S. Fletcher

“ Now, last Tuesday night I was going to bed, about twenty minutes to ten, and I was just about drawing the blind down in my front upstairs window when I heard voices in the street below.
"I looked out and saw two gentlemen coming along. The lamp I mentioned was just in front of them, so, of course, the light fell full on them. One of them was Mr. Mesham. The other was a stranger—a tallish——"
"Be very careful about describing him, if you please," interrupted Brixey.
"As tall as Mr. Mesham," said Mrs. Iddison. "An elderly man, fresh-coloured, clean-shaved. ”

“ Iddison. "Not a soul! I’m not one for talking to neighbours, and, to tell you the truth, I’ve never thought anything of this until I saw, that placard that was carried about this morning. No—I’ve told no one."
"Don’t!" said Brixey. "And, talking of neighbours, do you think any of yours would be likely to see what you saw?"
"I have none close at hand," she answered, "Mine’s the only dwelling house in Friargate. On one side of the street, coming from the main street, there’s first St. Fridolin’s church, and then the long wall of Mrs. Byfield’s garden. ”

“ If I haven’t some soul to talk to to-morrow, I shall explode! It’s Sunday. Come out with me. I want to tell you a whole budget of stuff. Coming?"
Georgina gave him an intelligent glance and moved off. ”