J. S. Fletcher

“ You can see for yourself," he went on, as he led Brixey round the corner, "this is a very small town. There are only these four main streets, all going off from the centre here—from that old Market Cross—in it.
"Your uncle was a stranger—and, I'm told, a fine-looking gentleman. How is it nobody saw him on Tuesday morning? At least, how is it we can't hear of anybody who saw him—in a bit of a place like this, where a stranger can scarcely fail to be noticed!"
"Aye!" said Brixey. ”

“ It was his love of antiquarianism that had brought him to Selchester, where he had proposed to spend a few days before joining his nephew at Winchester, preparatory to a joint tour in the south-west of England. ”

“ Anyway, a strange gentleman—elderly—dropped in there for a few minutes, and——"
"Where is this place?" demanded Brixey, snatching up his hat. "Up North Street? Come on then, Inspector; that's the first clue I've heard, and we'll be on to it.
"This," he continued as they went out into the courtyard, "is a very serious affair. There's no reason in the world why my uncle should disappear. He was in the very best of health; he's a well-to-do man; he came here to enjoy himself by looking round your old spots, and I'm afraid he's had an accident." ”