J. S. Fletcher

“ Brixey wheeled his companion into the street and pulled him up before the first shop they came to.
"Everything's in the dark," he said, pointing to a bill which hung prominently displayed. "There’s the first effort I’ve made to dispel the darkness, Gaffkin. I want your help; you’re the only man I could think of. As far as I can see, there’s some extraordinary mystery about my uncle’s disappearance." ”

“ Somebody must have seen him."
"Somebody may come forward yet," remarked Brixey. "A hundred pounds reward may loosen a tongue or two. But now, Gaffkin, these police chaps—they're already on the theory that my uncle was murdered by tramps, or vanners, or gipsies, or something of that sort. You know what they are when they start a line of their own. Well, let ’em take it. We’ve got to go deeper.
"My uncle may have been murdered, but if he has, it’s not been because of the money in his pocket and the diamond in his necktie. ”

“ The reason's been a deeper one than that. And it seems to me that the thing to find out is: Is there any person here in this town who had reasons—weighty reasons—for silencing him?"
"A big order, Mr. ”