It sounds so reasonable when you
say it, but there seems to be something left out."
"I don't know how he can be, but he is," I said,
hopelessly. "And he is exactly like his picture."
"Well, that's not unusual, you know."
"It is in this case. Because I bought the picture in a
shop, and just pretended it was him. (He?) And it _was_."
He got up and paced the floor.
"It's a very strange case," he said. "Do you mind if I
light a cigarette? It helps to clear my brain. What was the name
you gave him?"
"Harold Valentine. But he is here under another name,
because of my Familey. They think I am a mere child, you see,
and so of course he took a _nom de plume_."
"A _nom de plume_? Oh I see! What is it?"
"Grosvenor," I said. "The same as yours."
"There's another Grosvenor in the building, That's where
the trouble came in, I suppose, Now let me get this straight.
You wrote a letter, and somehow or other he got it, and now you
want it back. Stripped of the things that baffle my
intellagence, that's it, isn't it?"
I rose in excitement.
"Then, if he lives in the building, the letter is probably
here.
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