And now, the reading being over, the two men sat for several minutes facing one another in silence. Presently the reader said:
"Well, have you identified the author?"
"I have," said Piecraft. "The tale is a reminiscence of some old speculations of mine. I wrote every word of it myself, and I finished it last night."
"How came you to think that it was written by somebody else?"
"That is what puzzles me. But I can give a partial explanation. Last night, after finishing the tale, I had a dream, which was extremely vivid, though I find it impossible now to recall the details. I dreamt that I was writing a story under the title of Dual Personality—something about a gamekeeper and two young lords who interchanged their characters. It was a sort of nightmare, partly accounted for by the fact that my health, until to-day, has been indifferent. When you came in this morning the influence of the dream lingered in sufficient strength to make me think I had actually written the story dreamed about, and not the one you have just read out. It was an illusion."
"Illusion is an integral part of reality," said the young man.
"Is that an original remark?" asked Piecraft. "Somehow I seem to remember having heard it before."
"It is a quotation," answered the other. "I am in the habit of using it for the enlightenment of new-comers."
"New-comers!" exclaimed Piecraft. "My dear fellow, do you know that my brass plate has been on this house for over ten years. It is you who are the new-comer, not I."
The young man smiled. "It has been on this house much longer than that, but you are a new-comer all the same," said he.