for him to
care
intensely
who he
really was
or wasn’t.
He said:
“Well, who
do you
think he
is, then?”
“He’s
Chalmers
Bryant.”
“The deuce
he is!
What makes
you think
so?” “He
dropped a
pocketbook
this
morning
and Chang
picked it
up and
gave it to
me,
thinking
it was
mine. I
couldn’t
help
seeing it
was
stuffed
with
newspaper
clippings
– some of
them fell
out as I
was
handling
the thing,
and I
don’t mind
admitting
that I
looked at
