J. S. Fletcher

“ Byfield and her son have gone to London?"
Semmerby showed his astonishment.
"Haven't the ghost of a notion!" he answered. "I knew nothing about their going until your nephew told me of it this morning."
"Very well," said Linthwaite. "Another question. You know Selchester, I suppose, as well as anybody in it. Do you know a man, apparently about thirty to thirty-five years of age, dark, medium-sized commonplace in appearance, but marked by a decided cast in his left eye?" ”

“ And, by George, sir, there’s no doubt that girl is the real owner of all the Martin Byfield property—every pennyworth!"
"What do you think now you know all?" asked Brixey.
"That that scoundrel Charles Melsome—or Christopher Mesham, as he now calls himself—is at the bottom of it!" answered Linthwaite.
"The squint-eyed fellow is probably his tool, or agent. Probably, too, Charles encountered Cradock when he came here in answer to my wire, and has drawn him into it. Presumably the object was to blackmail Mrs. Byfield to a very considerable extent, and to make the lad Fanshawe another victim. ”

“ And in the end he nodded his head with decision.
"You're quite right in your conclusion, my lad!" he said. "There’s a conspiracy here, which was evidently in being before I came to Selchester last week, and which was to have matured to-morrow. My presence interfered with the prospects of success; your doings have further interfered; the sudden going away of Mrs. Byfield has presumably been another cog in the wheel. ”