In the heart of London, John Ashton--the man from Australia--has been murdered. It seems clear that the motive was not robbery, and as he apparently had no acquaintances in town, the exposure of the murderer appears hopeless. Nevertheless, Mr. Fletcher accomplishes it in a story that keeps the reader in suspense until the very last word. This talented author has no rival to-day in ingenuity.
t now, as he paced down the passage, as lonely a place at that hour as you could find in all London. It was queer, he reflected, that he scarcely ever remembered meeting anybody in that passage.
And then he suddenly paused, pulling himself up with a strange consciousness that at last he was to meet something. Beneath the feeble light of the one lamp Viner saw a man. Not a man walking, or standing still, or leaning against the wall, but lying full length across the flagged pavement, motionless--so motionless that at the end of the first moment of surprise, Viner felt sure that he was in the presence of death. And then he stole nearer, listening, and looked down, and drawing his match-box from his pocket added the flash of a match to the poor rays from above. Then he saw white linen, and a bloodstain slowly spreading over its glossy surface.
NUMBER SEVEN IN THE SQUARE
Before the sputter of the match had died out,
Pretty fun read. Came away thinking it was about the plot and not so much about character development - I like that and I took a thankful notice of how 'going too far' with details didn't happen. I'll give it 3 1/2
This is a good solid mystery featuring amateur detectives. Has enough plot twists to keep you guessing although the character development is not particularly deep. An enjoyable read.