Fenner said, “Where’s your sister, Marian?”
She didn’t jump more than an inch, but it looked like a couple of yards. Fenner leaned over her and pulled her round. Her eyes were startled. “Where’s your sister?” he repeated.
She said, “What do you know about her? How do you know about her?”
Fenner sat down close to her. “You’re as like as two peas,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” He put his hand inside his pocket and took out the letter he had found in Marian’s bag. “Look at that,” he said.
She read it through blankly and then shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “Who’s Pio? Who’s Noolen?”
Fenner went over to the table, picked up a pad of notepaper and a pencil and came back to the bed. “Write that letter out for me,” he said.
As she struggled up, he said hastily, “Wait.” He went to the cupboard and got his pajama jacket and threw it over to her. Then he went into the bathroom and waited a few seconds. When he came out she had put the coat on and was rolling back the long sleeves.
She said, “Why do you want me to do this?”
“Do it.” He spoke very curtly.
She scribbled on the pad and then gave it to him. He compared the two handwritings. There was nothing similar about them. He tossed the pad on the table again, and began to walk up and down the room slowly. She watched him nervously.