The Town Traveller

rs. Bubb, though she had retired to her chamber, was not yet wholly unpresentable; reluctantly, and with wonder, she went to answer the untime

r in a voice of half-remembere

h chance for you if it was. It's your friend Mr.

ase. What the dickens can he

of about forty, with a long unwholesome face, lank hair, and prominent eyes. He began with elaborate apologies, phrased and uttered with more refinement than his appearance would have led one to expect. No; he would on no account be seated. U

n good-humouredly, as he sat in bed with his kn

odgings in the parish of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields; besides, you don't imagine I should distu

e was living,

and I shall have to provide a substitute, you see. I thought I had found one, a very decent fellow called Grosvenor, who declares, by the by, that he can trace his connexion with the aristocratic house-interesting, isn't it? But Grosvenor has got into trouble to-d

what's 'Sa

g vans, painted vermilion and indigo, going about

eenacre, what's all this

to speak in that way. I make all allowance for the hour and the

is friend, or he yours?" shoute

bliged to do it. Poor Bolsover confessed afterwards that he had behaved badly (there was a lady in the case), but it put an end to our intimacy. And now he's gone, and the least I can do is to attend his

mon burst into a roar of laughter w

he remark that followed. "It's no use try

plied Greenacre solemnly. "The chief thing is to

f animal in

Welsh cobs-good

m round myself. I'm off for to-morrow, an

ef. He began to describe the route wh

Best is near a Board School when the children are about. I'm greatly obliged to you, Gammon; I never thought you'd be able to do it yourself. Could you be at the stable just before nine? I'd meet you and give you a send-off. Bait at-where is it?" He consulted the notebook. "Yes, Prin

ut Gammon had never refused a loan which it was in his power to grant. In a few minutes he fulfilled his promise to Mrs. Bubb, seei

north-west breeze; in high spirits Gammon mounted the big but light

him from such thoughts. As always, he threw himself into the business of the moment with conscientious gusto; he had "Saponaria" at heart, and was as anxious to advertise the new washing powder as if the profits were all his own. At one spot where a l

there came out a man whom he knew by sight, evidently a traveller, who mounted the trap and dr

asked Gammon with h

d him str'ight that if he comes into this shop

t. It shows there's something in him. Who is

did like that chap; but when he comes in 'ere, with his white 'at, telling me how to manage my

ctively. "They're likely to be want

" replied the shopkeeper. "And tha

mained. The name of Quodling interested him, being that of the man in the City who so strikingly resembled Mr. Clover; who, moreover, was probably connected in some way with t

promised him his choice out of the litter of bull terriers. With animation he discoursed upon the points of this species of dog-the pure white coat; the long, lean, punishing head, flat above; the breadth behind the ears, the stren

ashion, known also as a coffee-shop, which Gammon greatly preferred to any kind of restaurant. There, on the narrow seats with high wooden backs, as uncomfortable a sitting as could be desired, with food before him of worse quality and worse cooked than any but English-speaking mortals would endure, he always felt at home, and was pleasantly reminded of the days of his youth, when a supper of eggs an

ings. But he was a guest, and his breeding did not allow him to complain. Of the funeral he shrank from speaking; but the few w

to the favoured few, where Greenacre, after a glass or two of rum-a choice for which

s that we know nothing about. Now a man like Bolsover-an aristocrat, with fifty or more acknowledged relatives in good position-think how many more there must be in out-of-the-way plac

that Gammon wondered whether

e old man used to cobble my boots for me a few years ago in Ball's Pond Road, He had an idea that one of his brothers, who went out to New Zealand and was no more heard of, had made a great fortune; said he'd dreamt about it again and again, and couldn't get rid of the fancy. Well, now, the house in which

!" remark

new the verger, and he used to let me look over the registers. I think that's what gave me my turn for genealogy. I believe the

d up and ask

ody called

But there's a firm of Quodli

nd col

ing? Now I come to thin

ng, a silk broker. For private reasons I

s friend, like one who tries t

ng about a Mrs. Quodling and a lawsuit-big lawsuit that used to b

me you ever told me," repl

Gammon, how very defective your memory is. You should use a mnemonic

Gammon, "that you told me once

to understand, Gammon, that you

e a tendency to maudlin dignity and sensitiveness; he laid a h

hought you accused me of falsehood, my dear Gammon, it would distress me deeply. Assure me that you don't. I am easily put out to-day. The death of poor Bolsover-my friend before he succeeded to the title. And that reminds me. But for a mere acc

some minutes, murmurin

just have one

boy. Where did y

lds. If you have the slightest doubt of my veracity, leave me, Gammon; I beg you will lea

ould induce the man to give his address. He protested that a few minutes' walk would bring him home, and as he seemed to have sobered