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Updated: May 26, 2025
"You remember when was it? not long ago asking me about a family named Quodling?" "Of course I do. It was only the other day at " "Ah, just so, yes," interposed Greenacre, suavely ignoring the locality. "You know my weakness for looking up family histories. I happened to be talking with my friend Beeching yesterday Aldham Beeching, you know, the Q.C. and Quodling came into my head.
Greenacre gazed absently at his friend, like one who tries to piece together old memories. "Lost it," he muttered at length in a discontented tone. "Something about a Mrs. Quodling and a lawsuit big lawsuit that used to be talked about when I was a boy. My father was a lawyer, you know." "Was he? It's the first time you ever told me," replied Gammon with a chuckle. "Nonsense!
The position he had now obtained was to become a "permanency"; to Quodling & Son he could attach himself, making his services indispensable. One of these days not just yet he would look in at Mrs. Clover's and see whether she still kept in the same resentful mind towards him. It was an odd thing that nowadays he gave more thought to Mrs. Clover than to Minnie.
Don't know the particulars, but I'm told that something turned on the likeness of the younger boy to the man who made the will see!" "Ah! Oh!" muttered Gammon reflectively. "An uppish, high-notioned fellow, Quodling the broker. Won't have anything to do with his brother. He's nothing much himself; went through the court not very long ago."
Gammon looked up and asked abruptly. "Know anybody called Quodling?" "Quodling? No one personally. But there's a firm of Quodling, brushmakers or something." "Oil and colourmen?" "Yes, to be sure. Quodling? Now I come to think of it why do you ask?" "There's a man in the City called Quodling, a silk broker. For private reasons I should like to know something about him."
Barony created by George III for some personal service. The first Polperro is said to have lived a year or two as a gipsy, and at another time as a highwayman. There's a portrait of him, Beeching tells me, in somebody's history of Cornwall, showing to perfection the Trefoyle nose." "Same as Quodling's, then," exclaimed Gammon. "Quodling, the broker?" "Precisely.
Before George, a most benevolent and helpful old lady; and that she might not sleep in an unblest grave, I betted do you mark me with Sedley, that I would write her funeral sermon; that it should be every word in praise of her life and conversation, that it should be all true, and yet that the diocesan should be unable to lay his thumb on Quodling, my little chaplain, who should preach it."
What had Lord Polperro to do with the Quodlings?" "The Quodlings? Ah! I grieve to tell you that Francis Quodling, an illegitimate half-brother of our friend, had of late given trouble to his lordship. Francis Quodling has long been in Queer Street; he seemed to think that he had a claim a natural claim, I might say on Lord Polperro.
Miss Sparkes neither observed the joke nor resented the name; she was listening with a preoccupied air. "You'll never find him," said Mrs. Bubb, shaking her head. "Don't be so sure of that. I shan't lose sight of this man Quodling. It's the strangest likeness I ever saw, and I shan't be satisfied till I've got to know if he has any connexion with the name of Clover.
Gammon promised himself to look into this story when he had time. That it could in any way concern him he did not seriously suppose, but he liked to track things out. Some day he would have another look at Quodling the broker, who so strongly resembled Mrs. Clover's husband. Both of them, it seemed, bore a likeness to some profligate aristocrat.
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