Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Linton lay down his steel fork beside the massively solid transparency of the restaurant water glass. "Isn't that Rogers Snead at that table?" he heard himself say stupidly. Howell, the man across the table from him, looked embarrassed without looking. "Not at all. Somebody who looks like him. Twin brother. You know how it is. Snead's dead, don't you remember?" Linton remembered. Howell had to know that he would remember. What were they trying to pull on him? "The man who isn't Snead is leaving," Linton said, describing the scene over Howell's shoulder. "If that's Snead's brother, I might catch him to pay my respects." "No," Howell said, "I wouldn't do that." "Snead came to Greta's funeral. It's the least I could do." "I wouldn't. Probably no relation to Snead at all. Somebody who looks like him." "He's practically running," Linton said. "He almost ran out of the restaurant." "Who? Oh, the man who looked like Snead, you mean." "Yes," Linton said. A thick-bodied man at the next table leaned his groaning chair back intimately against Linton's own chair. "That fellow who just left looked like a friend of yours, huh?" the thick man said. "Couldn't have been him, though," Linton answered automatically. "My friend's dead." The thick man rocked forward and came down on all six feet. He threw out of the place quickly. Howell breathed in deeply and sucked back Linton's attention. "Now you've probably got old Snead into trouble." "Snead's dead," Linton said. "Oh, well, 'dead,'" Howell replied. "What do you say it like that for?" Linton demanded angrily. "The man's dead. Plain dead. He's not Sherlock Holmes or the Frankenstein Monster—there's no doubt or semantic leeway to the thing." "You know how it is," Howell said. Linton had thought he had known how death was. He had buried his wife, or rather he had watched the two workmen scoop and shove dirt in on the sawdust-fresh pine box that held the coffin. He had known what he let him out of the asylum as cured, he still secretly believed he had known a genuine affection for her. But it didn't seem he knew about death at all. Linton felt that his silence was asking Howell by this time. "I don't know, mind you," Howell said, puffing out tobacco smoke, "but I suppose he might have been resurrected." "Who by?" Linton asked, thinking: God? "The Mafia, I guess. Who knows who runs it?" "You mean, somebody has invented a way to bring dead people back to life?" Linton said. some people had a system of making it appear that a person had died in order to gain some illegal advantage. But by saying something so patently ridiculous, Linton hoped to bring the contradicting truth to the surface immediately. much about people like that. I'm an honest businessman." "But it's wonderful," Linton said, thinking his immediate thoughts. "Wonderful! Why should a thing like that be illegal? Why don't I know about it?" "Sh-h," Howell said uneasily. "This is a public place." "I don't understand," Linton said helplessly. "I see," Linton said. He tried to assimilate it. Of course he had, he reminded himself, been out of touch for some time. It might be true. Then again, they might be of people and if you're smart, you'll not either." Linton's fingers imprinted the linen. "Damn you, Howell, you tell me!" Howell climbed to his feet hurriedly. "I take you out to dinner to console you over the loss of your wife a half a year ago, and to make Howell threw money on the table with the same kind of disinterest as the thick-set man and stalked out. I've got to hurry too, Linton thought. It's Resurrection Day! The doctor fluttered his hands and chirped about the office. "Well, disturbing." "I was only trying to find out something," Linton maintained. "They could have told me. Everybody seems to know but me." The doctor clucked his tongue. "Let's not think any such thing. People don't know more than you do." Linton rubbed his shoulder. "That cop knew more about Judo holds than I did." "A few specific people know a few specific things you don't. But let me thing like that?" "People who want to know the answers to questions have to ask them. You can find out anything by asking the right questions of the right person at the right time." Linton stared suspiciously. "Do you know where I can find a resurrectionist?" policeman would just steal your money? Cynics—all you young people are cynics." Linton scooted forward on the insultingly cold metal chair and really looked at the doctor for the first time. "Doctor, can you "Will you stop being cynical? Of course I can!" "Doctor, I'm beginning to believe in you," Linton said, "but tell me, of it was like and recreate it. It's infallible. Naturally there is a degree of risk involved." "Infallible risk, yes," Linton murmured. "Could you go to work right away?" "First, I must follow an ancient medical practice. I must bleed you." Linton grasped the situation immediately. "You mean you want money. You realize I've just got out of an institution...." "I've often been in institutions myself, for alcoholism, narcotics addiction and more." "What a wonderful professional career," Linton said, when he couldn't care less. Beautifully." The certificate to allow reburial in Virginia hadn't been impossible to obtain. The doctor had taken the body and Linton's fortune and fed them both into the maw of his calculators, and by means of the secret, smuggled formulae, Greta would be cybernetically reborn. Linton shook his head. It seemed impossible. But Greta opened the olive-drab slab of metal of the door to the doctor's inner-inner sanctum and walked out into the medicinal cold fluorescent lighting. It wasn't fair at all, Linton thought. He should have had some time to prepare himself. "Now, now," Linton said, "we mustn't get excited. You've been through a trial." "Traffic accident. Killed instantly." "But Johnny was your friend, your best friend. Why didn't you have him resurrected the same way you did me?" sure you haven't the money to do it?" "No," Linton said. "I'm sold out. I've borrowed on my insurance to the hilt. It won't pay any more until I'm buried, and then, of course, you can resurrect me." to quench death and smother decay. It's Her eyes flashed around the doctor's office and settled somewhere, on something. Linton followed the direction of Greta's gaze and found only an ashtray acceptance of the crumpled metal disk falling toward it. He split her head open and watched her float to the floor. Linton was surprised at the fine wire mesh just below the skin and He opened his eyes to the doctor's spotless, well-ordered office. The doctor looked down at him consolingly. "You'll have to go back, Mr. Linton. But they'll cure you. You'll be cured of ever thinking your wife was brought back to life and that you killed her all over again." "Do you really think so, Doctor?" Linton asked hopefully.

<question>:
What is the significance of Rogers Snead?

<options>:
A His sighting gives LInton an idea of how to see his wife
B He serves as proof that Linton is seeing things, and needs professional help
C Snead is a reminder of a previous stage of Linton's life
D Linton knows that Snead could take him where he needs to go

<answer>:

A