J. S. Fletcher

“ Worse, if anything, than the other—got five years for forgery. Odd that two such utterly worthless fellows should come of such good old stock!"
With a sharp exclamation, Brixey pushed the book away from him, and, jumping to his feet, stared at Gaffkin. And Gaffkin smiled and wagged his head with a knowing gesture.
"By Gad!" exclaimed, Brixey. "You've hit it in one, Gaffkin! Of course—the Christopher Mesham of Selchester is the Charles Melsome of those receipts!"
"Yes!" said Gaffkin. "But where's his brother, Cradock? And where's Cradock's wife—Harriet Sunderland?" ”

“ Gaffkin turned over the pages of the pedigree book.
"Mr. Linthwaite," he said, "has a habit, evidently, of writing down little notes—what you might call autobiographical notes—about the people mentioned in his pedigrees. There's one about your father and one about yourself, Mr, Brixey. But now, look what he's written about these two Melsomess!"
Brixey looked, and read his uncle's naïvely frank remarks.
"6. A bad egg. His wife, a decent woman, ran away from him, in less than six months, unable to stand him any longer. She made a clean disappearance, too; never could trace her." ”

“ Brixey examined the various documents as Gaffkin laid them below him, and, without comment, glanced at the second bundle.
"These refer to the other beneficiary, Charles Melsome," said Gaffkin. "Now, the wording is just the same. He, too, gets these payments, at half-yearly intervals, under the will of James Melsome, deceased. They begin at the same time as those made to Cradock Melsome. They, too, are from various places, but mostly they are dated in London. ”