The man was speaking in quite another voice now, and in the most awful tones Lord Verney had ever heard in his life, and to his alarmed and sickly eyes it seemed as if the dusky figure of his visitor were dilating in the dark like an evoked Genii. "I--I think about it--it's quite unaccountable--all this." Lord Verney was looking at the stranger as he spoke, and groping with his left hand for the old-fashioned bell-rope which used to hang near him in the library in Verney House, forgetting that there was no bell of any sort within his reach at that moment. "I'm not going to take poor dear Arthur's mallet out of my pocket, for the least tap of it would make all England ring and _roar_, sir. No, I'll make no noise; you and I, sir, _tête-à-tête_. I'll have no go-between; no Larkin, no Levi, no Cleve; you and I'll settle it alone. Your brother was a great Grecian, they used to call him [Greek: Odusseus]--Ulysses. Do you remember? I said I was the great Greek merchant? We have made an exchange together. You must pay. What shall I call myself, for Dingwell isn't my name. I'll take a new one--To [Greek: men prôton Outin heauton epikalei--epeidande diepheuge kai exô ên belous Odussyn onomazesthai ephê] In English--at first he called himself Outis--_Nobody_; but so soon as he had escaped, and was out of the javelin's reach, he said that he was named Odusseus--_Ulysses_, and here he is. This is the return of Ulysses!" There had been a sudden change in Mr. Dingwell's Yankee intonation. The nasal tones were heard no more. He approached the window, and said, with a laugh, pulling the shutter more open-- "Why, Kiffyn, you fool, don't you know me?" There was a silence. "My great God! my great God of heaven!" came from the white lips of Lord Verney. "Yes; God's over all," said Arthur Verney, with a strange confusion, between a sneer and something more genuine. There was a long pause. "Ha, ha, ha! don't make a scene! Not such a muff?" said Dingwell. Lord Verney was staring at him with a face white and peaked as that of a corpse, and whispering still--"My God! my great God!" so that Dingwell, as I still call him, began to grow uneasy. "Come; don't you make mountains of molehills. What the devil's all this fuss about? Here, drink a little of this." He poured out some water, and Lord Verney did sip a little, and then gulped down a good deal, and then he looked at Arthur again fixedly, and groaned. "That's right--never mind. I'll not hurt you. Don't fancy I mean to disturb you. I _can't_, you know, if I wished it _ever_ so much. I daren't _show_--I _know_ it. Don't suppose I want to _bully_ you; the idea's _impracticable_. I looked in merely to tell you, in a friendly way, who I am. You must do something handsome for me, you know. Devil's in it if a fellow can't get a share of his own money, and, as I said before, we'll have no go-betweens, no Jews or attorneys. D--n them all--but settle it between ourselves, like brothers. Sip a little more water."