"The elder, I should say, an able man," answered Dives; "I dare say could be agreeable. It is not easy to assign his exact rank though, nor his profession or business. You remarked he seems to know something in detail and technically of nearly every business one mentions." "Yes; and about the young man--that Mr. Guy Strangways, with his foreign accent and manner--did anything strike you about him?" "Yes, certainly, could not fail. The most powerful likeness, I think, I ever saw in my life." They both stopped, and exchanged a steady and anxious look, as if each expected the other to say more; and after a while the Rev. Dives Marlowe added, with an awful sort of nod-- "Guy Deverell." The Baronet nodded in reply. "Well, in fact, he appeared to me something _more_ than like--the same--identical." "And old Lady Alice saw him in Wardlock Church, and was made quite ill," said the Baronet gloomily. "But you know he's gone these thirty years; and there is no necromancy now-a-days; only I wish you would take any opportunity, and try and make out all about him, and what they want. I brought them here to pump them, by Jove; but that old fellow seems deuced reserved and wary. Only, like a good fellow, if you can find or make an opportunity, you must get the young fellow on the subject--for I don't care to tell you, Dives, I have been devilish uneasy about it. There are things that make me confoundedly uncomfortable; and I have a sort of foreboding it would have been better for me to have blown up this house than to have come here; but ten to one--a hundred to one--there's nothing, and I'm only a fool." As they thus talked they entered the gate of the stable-yard. CHAPTER XVI. Containing a Variety of Things. "Guy Deverell left no issue," said Dives. "No; none in the world; neither chick nor child. I need not care a brass farthing about any that can't inherit, if there were any; but there isn't one; there's no real danger, you see. In fact, there _can't_ be _any_--eh? _I_ don't see it. Do _you_? You were a sharp fellow always, Dives. _Can_ you see anything threatening in it?" "_It! What?_" said the Rev. Dives Marlowe. "I see _nothing--nothing whatever--absolutely_ nothing. Surely you can't fancy that a mere resemblance, however strong, where there can't possibly be identity, and the fact that the young man's name is Guy, will make a case for alarm!" "Guy _Strangways_, you know," said Sir Jekyl. "Well, what of Strangways? I don't see." "Why, Strangways, you remember, or _don't_ remember, was the name of the fellow that was always with--with--that cross-grained muff." "With Guy Deverell, you mean?" "Ay, with him that night, and constantly, and abroad I think at those German gaming-places where he played so much." "I forgot the name. I remember hearing there _was_ a person in your company that unlucky night; but you never heard more of him?"