Perhaps what he said was true, but after the events of the last
two years I find myself inclined to doubt the truth of everything
that is told me. He said that he would come and see me again
sometime next week, and I am sending you this letter in order that
you may bring it with you as a passport, provided you are the one
who was here on Wednesday.

If you did not call as stated please say nothing about this letter
to anyone, and when your double arrives, I'll tell him what I
think of him. Would send other messages, but while things seem as
they do at present it is impossible. Have had someone else address
envelope for fear letter might be held up on the way.

Yours,

CLIFFORD W.B.

Though I felt reasonably confident that this message would reach my
brother, I was by no means certain. I was sure, however, that, should
he receive it, under no circumstances would he turn it over to anyone
hostile to myself. When I wrote the words: "Dear George," my feeling
was much like that of a child who sends a letter to Santa Claus after
his childish faith has been shaken. Like the skeptical child, I felt
there was nothing to lose, but everything to gain. "Yours" fully
expressed such affection for relatives as I was then capable of--for
the belief that I had disgraced, perhaps destroyed, my family prompted
me to forbear to use the family name in the signature.

The thought that I might soon get in touch with my old world did not