The Paradise Mystery by J. S. Fletcher, Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Historical - Fletcher, J. S.
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"What is it, Varner?" asked Bryce calmly. "Something happened?" The man swept his hand across his forehead as if he were dazed, and then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "A man!" he gasped. "Foot of St. Wrytha's Stair there, doctor. Dead -- or if not dead, near it. I saw it!" Bryce seized Varner's arm and gave it a shake. "You saw -- what?" he demanded. "Saw him -- fall. Or rather -- flung!" panted Varner. "Somebody -- couldn't see who, nohow -- flung him right through yon doorway, up there. He fell right over the steps -- crash!" Bryce looked over the tops of the yews and cypresses at the…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
"What is it, Varner?" asked Bryce calmly. "Something happened?" The man swept his hand across his forehead as if he were dazed, and then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "A man!" he gasped. "Foot of St. Wrytha's Stair there, doctor. Dead -- or if not dead, near it. I saw it!" Bryce seized Varner's arm and gave it a shake. "You saw -- what?" he demanded. "Saw him -- fall. Or rather -- flung!" panted Varner. "Somebody -- couldn't see who, nohow -- flung him right through yon doorway, up there. He fell right over the steps -- crash!" Bryce looked over the tops of the yews and cypresses at the doorway in the clerestory to which Varner pointed -- a low, open archway gained by the half-ruinous stair. It was forty feet at least from the ground. "You saw him -- thrown!" he exclaimed. "Thrown -- down there? Impossible, man!" "Tell you I saw it!" asserted Varner doggedly. "I was looking at one of those old tombs yonder -- somebody wants some repairs doing -- and the jackdaws were making such a to-do up there by the roof I glanced up at them. And I saw this man thrown through that door -- fairly flung through it! God! -- do you think I could mistake my own eyes?" "Did you see who flung him?" asked Bryce. "No; I saw a hand -- just for one second, as it might be -- by the edge of the doorway."
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Autorenporträt
Joseph Smith Fletcher (1863 - 1935) was an English journalist and author. He wrote more than 230 books on a wide variety of subjects, both fiction and non-fiction and was one of the most prolific English writers of detective fiction. At age 20, Fletcher began working in journalism, as a sub-editor in London. He subsequently returned to his native Yorkshire, where he worked first on the Leeds Mercury using the pseudonym A Son of the Soil and then as a special correspondent for the Yorkshire Post covering Edward VII's coronation in 1902. Fletcher's first books published were poetry. He then moved on to write numerous works of historical fiction and history, many dealing with Yorkshire, which led to his selection as a fellow of the Royal Historical Society.