J. S. Fletcher

“ I had it a trifle open."
"One man, one woman—together?" said Brixey. "Then——"
Before he could say one word more Gaffkin suddenly pushed him inside the mouth of a passage by which they were standing, and, as if by instinct, the other three men separated and scattered over the street.
"Mesham—and another man!" whispered Gaffkin. "Keep back; he'd know you!"
A moment later Mesham, turning to neither right nor left, walked past, in company with a man in a dark overcoat and top-hat, who wore large blue spectacles. ”

“ A man came round the corner—a man whom Brixey, had he been writing newspaper English, would have called a person of an an eminently watchful and noticing disposition, evidenced, in this instance, by the fact that when he saw Gaffkin in conversation with strangers, he immediately affected absolute non-knowledge of him, and made as if to cross the street. ”

“ Gaffkin, motioning all three to retire a little farther along Byward Street, jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the hotel.
"Mesham!" he said. "He’s in there—Wolmark’s. I followed him here last night. I’ve a man in there, keeping an eye on him—a safe man. I’m expecting him out every minute, with a report."
"What have you been doing?" asked Brixey. He introduced the two detectives by name, and the professional eyes took stock of their amateur rival. "We’re all on the same job, Gaffkin," he continued. "Tell your tale!" ”