J. S. Fletcher

“ Here and there small groups of men were gathered about the tables in the alcoves, but the majority of those present—a numerous company—were lined up along the bar, and several of them had ranged themselves round a tall, elderly man, who, glass in hand, was evidently laying down the law with unction, and in what looked to be enjoyment of the sound of his own voice. ”

“ Give me the same old thing, my dear."
"All the same," remarked one of the loungers, "a hundred pounds is a hundred pounds, and there are plenty of folks in Selchester who'd be glad to handle it, Mr. Mesham."
Gaffkin nudged Brixey again. Mesham—Mr. Mesham. And Brixey returned the nudge in token of his understanding. The Mr. X. of. the Lincoln’s Inn Fields days was now the Mr. Mesham of Selchester.
Mr. Mesham took up the replenished tumbler and lifted it. At that moment the waiter who had just served Brixey and Gaffkin turned up the light in their alcove, and the glare fell full on Gaffkin. ”

“ Gaffkin drew Brixey into an alcove that lay in shadow, and motioning to a waiter who was hovering about, ordered whisky-and-soda.
"That's the man!" he whispered, nudging his companion. "Take no notice. ”

“ Brixey."
"He wasn't a Selchester man, then, originally?" asked Gaffkin.
"No, sir, not he! Never saw him in the place until he came," answered the landlord. "And I never heard where he came from, either. Nobody knew him. He just came, took those rooms, and settled down. And wherever he gets his money from, he’s not short of it He——"
The waiter knocked at the door and looked at his master.
"Beg pardon, sir—Reverend Mr. Felgrave to see Mr. Brixey," he announced.
"One of our clergymen," whispered Brackett. "Vicar of St. Fridolin's."
"Bring Mr. Felgrave in," said Brixey. ”