"Come to the stable, Dives," said the Baronet, taking his arm. "You must choose a horse. You don't hunt now?"
"I have not been at a cover for ten years," answered the reverend gentleman, speaking with a consciousness of the demi-shovel.
"Well, come along," continued the Baronet. "I want to ask you—let's be serious" (everybody likes to be serious over his own business). "What do you think of these foreign personages?"
"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."