Well, now, the house in which he lived took fire, and the poor old chap was burnt in his bed, and so his name got into the newspapers.

A day or two after I heard that his brother--the one he spoke of--had been living for some years scarcely a mile away at Stoke Newington--a man rolling in money, a director of the British and Colonial Bank." "Rummy go!" remarked Gammon.
"When I was a lad," pursued the other, after sipping at his refilled glass, "I lived just by an old church in the City, and I knew 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 there are fellows who get a living by hunting up pedigrees; that would just suit me, if I only knew how to start in the business." 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.