Books with author Julia Fletcher

"Queer, isn’t it, miss .... that these people which knew each other well in the old days, Mrs. Tretheroe and the two gentlemen, Mr. Guy and Mr. Harborough, should all turn up again—here—about the same time?"After seven years of silence, Guy Markenmore returns to his family seat at Markenmore Court. Knowing his father Sir Anthony to be close to death, he is anxious to reassure his younger siblings that he will not make any claim to the family money even if he can't help inheriting the old man's title. Sir Anthony dies later that evening, but the question of the inheritance becomes academic when Guy is murdered whilst crossing the downs.The nearby town of Selcaster is alive with gossip, and suspicion falls heavily on John Harborough, Guy's love rival, who also coincidentally returned to the area on that fateful night. But D.S. Blick of Scotland Yard is determined to leave no-one unsuspected in his quest to solve the Markenmore mystery...First published in 1922, this is a vintage British murder mystery from the golden age of crime fiction.

Paradise is a piece of land near a thirteenth-century Cathedral in England and a quiet small town nearby is a hotbed of local gossip. Mark Ransford is a local doctor and a guardian of Mary and Dick Bewery. His assistant Pemberton Bryce is in love with Mary, but Dr. Ransford doesn't approve it. One day, after a visit to the doctor's house, a certain man finds death as he falls from the Cathedral. Bryce is convinced that Dr. Ransford is involved in the death and starts an investigation.Joseph Smith Fletcher (1863-1933) was an English author and journalist, one of the leading writers of detective fiction in the Golden Age. After his journalist career Fletcher first started writing poems, then historical fiction, and finally moved on to write detective mysteries.

Look here! Rothwell said. You'd better go and make inquiry at Northborough. See if you can track him. Something must be wrong -- perhaps seriously wrong. You don't quite understand, do you, Mr. Copplestone? he went on, giving the younger man a sharp glance. You see, we know Mr. Oliver so well -- we've both been with him a good many years. He's a model of system, regularity, punctuality, and all the rest of it. In the ordinary course of events, wherever he spent yesterday, he'd have been sure to turn up at his rooms at the 'Angel' hotel last night, and he'd have walked in here this morning at half-past twelve. As he hasn't done either, why, then, something unusual has happened. Stafford, you'd better get a move on. -- Wait a minute, said Stafford. He turned again to the groups behind him, repeating his question. -- Has anybody anything to tell? he asked anxiously. We've just heard that Mr. Oliver left his hotel at Northborough yesterday morning at eleven o'clock, alone, walking. Has anybody any idea of any project, any excursion, that he had in mind?

An old seafaring stranger with a heavy, locked op chest turns up from nowhere seeking lodgings with Hugh Moneylaws and his mother in Berwick-upon-Tweed, a rural English town bordering Scotland. One night he sends Hugh, a young solicitor's clerk, to meet a man instead of him, as he is too ill, but when Hugh arrives at the destination, he finds a man murdered. Hugh's law firm gets involved to resolve the mystery.Joseph Smith Fletcher (1863-1933) was an English author and journalist, one of the leading writers of detective fiction in the Golden Age. After his journalist career Fletcher first started writing poems, then historical fiction, and finally moved on to write detective mysteries.

Spangle the Magical SpanielSpangle, an adorable, ruby-coloured, Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, is the smallest puppy in his family. That makes things hard when his brothers and sisters get too rough with him, but worse than that, Spangle is too little to keep his magic in! An unexpected sneeze can result in all kinds of surprising things, like coloured sparks, or butterflies, or flowers. Spangle’s Most Magical Mother worries that he’ll never be ready to be a wizard’s apprentice.But when Spangle accidentally falls into a raging river and is carried off over a waterfall, he finds himself on a magical adventure that takes him places he never imagined; even back in time, to a terrible night during the Great Fire of London. Will tiny Spangle learn to manage his magic in time to make it safely back home?

At seven of the clock I turned away from the window, where, for a full hour, I had stood flattening my nose against the pane in a vain attempt to see something of interest in the dripping garden or the dank meadows outside. Sir Nicholas moved in his deep chair by the fire and then groaned, his old enemy catching him afresh and tweaking his great toe. Seeing that his pain had awakened him I went over and stood at his side. I saw the firelight glint on his frosted hair, and it woke in me some sleeping memory of a by gone winter. Yet then it was August, and had been a bright one, but that day we had suffered from a heavy rain which came with the dawn and kept pouring itself upon us without ceasing, so that no man putting his nose out o’ doors could have said with certainty whether he sniffed April or November in the air. As for me, I was heartily sick of it and everything, and when my uncle’s silvery hair reminded me of winter I thought regretfully of the previous Christmas and of Mistress Catherine and the mistletoe that then hung over the very spot where I now stood watching Sir Nicholas making wry faces at his foot.