'Reminds me of!' answered Pyke. 'Of course there is.'
'Who do you mean?' said Pluck, in the same mysterious manner. 'The D. of B.?'
'The C. of B.,' replied Pyke, with the faintest trace of a grin lingering in his countenance. 'The beautiful sister is the countess; not the duchess.'
'True,' said Pluck, 'the C. of B. The resemblance is wonderful!'
'Perfectly startling,' said Mr Pyke.
Here was a state of things! Mrs Wititterly was declared, upon the testimony of two veracious and competent witnesses, to be the very picture of a countess! This was one of the consequences of getting into good society. Why, she might have moved among grovelling people for twenty years, and never heard of it. How could she, indeed? what did THEY know about countesses?
The two gentlemen having, by the greedi
