"Ho! young gentleman, why don't you read your prayer-book?" said the old man, with solemn waggery.
"I don't understand," said the young gentleman.
"No, you don't. I am the old sphynx, you see, and some of my riddles I can't make out, even myself. My faith! I have been puzzling my head till it aches over my notebook; and I saw you walking with that old lady, Lady Alice Redcliffe, up and down so affectionately. There is another riddle! My faith! the house itself is an enigma. And Sir Jekyl—what do you think of him; is he going to marry?"
"To marry!" echoed Guy Strangways.
"Ay, to marry. I do not know, but he is so sly. We must not let him marry, you know; it would be so cruel to poor little Mademoiselle Beatrix—eh?"
Guy Strangways looked at him doubtingly.
"He is pretty old, you know, but so am I, and older, my faith! But I think he is making eyes at the married ladies—eh?"
"I have not observed—perhaps so," answered Guy, carelessly. "He does walk and talk a great deal with that pretty Madame Maberly."
"Madame Maberly? Bah!" And M. Varbarriere's "bah" sounded like one of those long sneering slides played sometimes on a deep chord of a double bass. "No, no, it is that fine woman, Miladi Jane Lennox."
"Lady Jane! I fancied she did not like him. I mean that she positively disliked him; and to say truth, I never saw, on his part, the slightest disposition to make himself agreeable."