'No. But then one cannot understand everything. That's the real beauty of this world: we are planted in the midst of things: we can give names to them--Adam began that way, didn't he?--but we can't understand any of them; and most people think that when we have given a name we have succeeded in understanding. Well, Elsie--we don't understand. But we may find out something. I take it that the other man grew up by degrees in his brain, so that there is no solution in the continuity of thought and recollection. The Edmund Gray developed himself. He has been developed for nearly ten years, since he has occupied the same Chambers all the time.' 'But about the forgeries?' George sprang to his feet. 'I declare,' he cried, 'that I had quite forgotten the real bearing on our case.' 'Edmund Gray,' said Elsie, 'says that his own lawyer who manages his affairs is Edward Dering. If he were to write letters while Edmund Gray, he would not impose upon Edward Dering.' 'He cannot write to two men,' said Athelstan. 'There must be a border-land between the waking and the dreaming, when the two spirits of Edmund Gray and Edward Dering contend for the mastery, or when they command each other--when Edmund Gray endorses cheques and Edward Dering writes letters and conducts transfers for his client--his double--himself.' 'I have seen him in such a state,' said George. 'At the time I never suspected anything but a passing trouble of mind, which caused him to be so wrapped up in his thoughts as not to be able to distinguish anything. He was then, I doubt not now, carrying out the instructions of Edmund Gray, or he was Edmund Gray acting for himself. Checkley whispered not to disturb him. He said that he had often seen him so.' 'I have never tried to understand,' said Elsie. 'But I saw that Edmund Gray was Mr. Dering gone mad, and that he himself, and nobody else, was the perpetrator of all these forgeries; and I have been trying to discover the best way--the kindest way to him--the surest way for us, of getting the truth known.--George, this is the secret of my mysterious movements. This is why I have not given you a single evening for a whole fortnight. Every evening--both Sundays--I have spent with this dear old man. He is the most delightful--the most gentle--the most generous--old man that you ever saw. He is full of ideas--oh! quite full--and they carry you out of yourself, until you awake next morning to find that they are a dream. I have fallen in love with him. I have had the most charming fortnight--only one was always rather afraid that he might come to himself, which would be awkward.' 'Well, Elsie, have you found a way?' 'I think I have. First, I have discovered that when he is surrounded with things that remind him of Edmund Gray, he remains Edmund Gray. Next, I have found out that I can, by talking to him even at his office, when he has his papers before him, turn him into Edmund Gray.' 'You are a witch, Elsie.'