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Updated: May 26, 2025
"What's the joke?" asked Gammon, as the other still smiled. "Old joke very old joke. The two men just as unlike as they could be in face, I mean. I never took the trouble to inquire about it, but I've been told there was a lawsuit years ago, something to do with the will of Lord somebody, who left money to old Mrs. Quodling who wasn't old then.
Gammon felt a reasonable assurance of success. Honesty was written broadly upon his visage; capability declared itself in his speech. He could win the liking and confidence of any ordinary man of business in ten minutes. It happened, fortunately, that the firm of Quodling needed just such a representative.
His companion smiled cheerfully, looking at once more interested. "Gildersleeve! Why, yes, there was a boy of that name no, no; it was Gildersleeves, I remember. Any connexion with Quodling?" "Can't say. The people I mean live in Stanhope Gardens. I don't know anything about them." "Like to?" Gammon admitted that the name had a significance for him. A matter of curiosity.
"Look here, Greenacre, I don't see why I shouldn't tell you. The fact is, a man I used to know has disappeared, and I want to find him. He was seen at the theatre with a lady who lives at that house; that's the long and the short of it." "Good! Now we're getting on in the old way. Age of the man about fifty, eh? And if I remember you said he was like Quodling in the face, Francis Quodling?
Lord P. didn't know you from Adam, nor your aunt either." He chuckled, and ate voraciously. The artifice seemed to him better and better, enjoyment of it gave him a prodigious appetite. "If you'll get on with your eating I'll tell you about it. Do you remember what I told you about the fellow Quodling in the City? Well, listen to this.
Polly to whom he spoke answered with a dry negative. "Sure? Try and think if you ever heard your uncle speak of the name." The girl's eyes fell as if, for some reason, she felt a momentary embarrassment. It passed, but in replying she looked away from Mr. Gammon. "Quodling? Never heard it why?" "Why, there is a man called Quodling who might be your uncle's twin brother he looks so like him.
Of course they would have him kicked into the street, and Serve him right. Polly and her boy! A young City clerk, eh? Old enough to wear a chimney-pot, he'd be bound. Polly was fond of chimney-pots. There, he had done with her, and with Clover and Quodling and Gildersleeve, and all the rest of the puzzle. As he suddenly entered the house Moggie ran to him up the kitchen stairs.
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