False Evidence by E. Phillips Oppenheim — Read

My first plans were not easy to form. I was like a blind man groping for some object which has slipped from his fingers, and not knowing in which direction to search for it first. I had a great and solemn purpose before me, a purpose which was my first consideration in life, and which nothing but death would cause me to relinquish. But I did not know how to start upon it.

I was in London when the idea occurred to me, save for which this story might never have been written. It was simple enough, and very vague. Nothing more or less than to try to procure employment near the Devereux estates, which I knew were somewhere in Yorkshire.