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 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. Just the kind of thing to interest that queer fish
Greenacre.
In the height of the London season nothing pleased Gammon more than
to survey the streets from an omnibus. Being just now a man of
leisure he freely indulged himself, spending an hour or two each day
in the liveliest thoroughfares. It was a sure way of forgetting his
cares. Sometimes he took a box place and chatted with the driver, or
he made acquaintances, male and female, on the cosy cross seats just
broad enough for two.
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