J. S. Fletcher

“ In the course of the day he met many folk who were similarly engaged. Mrs. Tretheroe was so much concerned about the fate of her guest, and so convinced that evil had befallen him, that she had pressed into service every villager who could be spared from his proper and usual labours, and had offered a handsome reward for success. But when eventide came again, and Mr. Fransemmery, weary with tramping up hill and down dale, returned to his own fireside, no success had materialized; Baron von Eckhardstein, as far as Markenmore folk were concerned, had vanished. ”

“ Fransemmery! Well," he continued, as Mr. Fransemmery resumed his own seat, "I came to ask your advice about something; I rather formed the opinion, when I met you the other day, that you were the most likely man round here to take a common-sense view of things."
"Flattered, I'm sure!" said Mr. Fransemmery. "I hope I am a common-sense person."
"Well, you know what I mean," observed Harborough. "You're not likely to let local prejudices and gossip affect you. Now, I want to ask your advice—as I said just now. Tomorrow, Sir Anthony and his elder son are to be buried in Markenmore churchyard. ”

“ She had rounded the screen by that time, and had caught sight of Harborough. Harborough got to his feet, looking uncertain and awkward.
"I'll go!" he said.
"No, indeed!" protested Valencia. "Not a bit of it—I'd—I'd just as soon tell you as Mr. Fransemmery—I'll tell you both. You're men—you'll know what to do."
Mr. Fransemmery signed to Harborough to stay where he was and drew a chair forward to the hearth.
"What is it, my dear?" he enquired, as Valencia seated herself. "Anything that we can do, I am quite sure will be done—if it's within our power." ”

“ Braxfield is the sort of person who will either have her own way or make things very disagreeable if she doesn't get it! That's the situation—and don't you think, Mr. Fransemmery, that as you know all of us, you might see Mrs. Braxfield, tonight, and persuade her to listen to reason? I don 't want any scenes tomorrow."
"I will go!" said Mr. Fransemmery. "I will talk to Mrs. Braxfield. But—do I understand that your brother's intention——"
"Harry's intention is to announce his marriage as soon as the funeral is over," said Valencia. "I am not going to the church—there will only be men there. ”

“ It is, I believe, within my recollection that, when you were giving evidence before myself and my fellow-jurymen the other morning, you said, clearly, plainly distinctly, without any apparent mental reserve that your one-time feeling of anger and resentment against the late Guy Markenmore had completely died out years ago, and that, had you met him again, you would have offered him your hand. ”

“ Fransemmery.
"Yes, it was known!" said Valencia. "It was known to Mrs. Braxfield!"
"The bride's mother!" remarked Mr. Fransemmery slowly. "Dear me! Really! And so—Poppy Wrenne is really Lady Markenmore?"
"Of course!" snapped Valencia.
"There's no doubt about the marriage?—its legality, I mean?" asked Mr. Fransemmery.
"None!" declared Valencia, as curtly as before, "whatever!"
Mr. Fransemmery remained silent a moment. Then he looked past Valencia, towards Harborough. Harborough, rubbing his chin, stared at the fire. Mr. Fransemmery turned to Valencia. ”