J. S. Fletcher

“ Brixey started forward. In his observations of the big sheet of water behind the Priory grounds he had noticed the small, thickly-wooded island of which the policeman spoke, and now a sudden light flashed field of mental vision. He clapped the inspector on the shoulder.
"Come on at once!" he exclaimed. "I've an idea what that means. Come! Bring more men. Get this man outside to show us the nearest way."
Ten minutes later at the head of half a dozen men, Brixey was standing on the edge of the black surface of the lake, striving to penetrate the gloom. ”

“ He looked up in astonishment.
"News?" he asked.
"Look here!'" exclaimed Brixey. "We've got to stir—quick! Never mind all the particulars. I'll tell you them later. But I’ve made a discovery.
"My uncle's been locked in a room in the top of that tower at the old Priory. There's no doubt about it, as you'll see for yourself. But he's not there now, and those Lees are gone—both father and daughter. They've gone off to-night, in a motor-car. I saw them go.
"Now, something's been done with my uncle before they left. We've got to find out what. Get some of your men and come up there. ”

“ Woimark’s Private Hotel, Trinity Square—down by the Tower, and near the Docks.
What was an address like that doing in Debbie Lee’s purse, there in Selchester?
But before Brixey had time to consider this problem his attention was otherwise occupied. Outside the room in which he stood there was a landing, and on that landing a window was open. All the time he had been there he had heard the hooting of the owls in the old trees across the grounds.
Now he heard something else—the steady throb of the engine of a motor-car. That sound drew nearer and nearer; slowed down, ceased. ”