Vail smiled, confident of my yielding.

"Easily," he assured. "Young Henley has been away five years; even
before that he was absent at school so much as to be practically
unknown except to the older servants. These have all been discharged,
and scattered. The wife is entirely unknown there. Anyone, bearing
ever so slight a resemblance, would pass muster. All you need do is
read the father's letters over, post yourself on a few details and take
possession. We will attend to all legal matters."

"Then you consider that I resemble Henley?"

"No," coolly, "not in any remarkable manner, but sufficient for our
purpose--age, size, general appearance answers very well; nose, eyes
and hair are alike, and general contour of the face is similar. There
is not likely to be any close scrutiny. Here is young Henley's
photograph."

He picked it up from among the papers, and handed it over to me. There
was a resemblance, recognizable now that my attention had been called
to it, certain features being remarkably similar, although the face in
the picture wore a hard, dissipated look utterly at variance with my
own. I glanced at the endorsement on the back.

"He was going to send this photograph to his father."

"Yes, but never did. Apparently there is no flaw in our plan."