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Updated: May 25, 2025
"I've taken all preliminary steps for you already, and you'll find the business tolerably smooth sailing. I've made a list of certain people who may be worth seeing." Mr. Sheldon selected a paper from the numerous documents upon the table. "Here they are," he said: "John Grewter, wholesale stationer, Aldersgate-street; Anthony Sparsfield, carver and gilder, in Barbican.
He nearly accommodated me into the Bankruptcy Court. And so you're Sheldon's clerk, and you want the governor. But you don't mean to say that Grewter and Grewter are " This was said in an awe-stricken undertone. I hastened to reassure the stationer's clerk. "I don't think Mr. Sheldon ever saw Mr. Grewter in his life," I said.
"Christian Meynell never had any brothers that I heard of," he said; "but the parish register will tell you all about that, supposing that his father before him lived all his life in Aldersgate-street, as I've every reason to believe he did." After this I asked a few questions about the neighbouring churches, thanked Mr. Grewter for his civility, and departed.
"I don't see any hope of finding out the name of the young woman's husband," I said, "unless I can come across another oldest inhabitant, gifted with a better memory for names and places than my obliging Sparsfield or my surly Grewter." "There are the almshouses," said Sheldon; "you haven't tried them yet."
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