“Mary K. back?”
“... no ... her substitute. Mary K. will return soon.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Yes. Mary K. is here.” This was followed by Mary K.’s characteristic and vigorous signature. “You should know me.”
“It seems easy for the others to masquerade,” I mentioned.
“Not to your touch,” she returned, indicating a means of identification that I had hesitated to trust.
“Why do you leave me?” I demanded.
“You know I have followed light, healing, and justice all my life,” was her retort. “Why doubt me now? I leave you that ... Ma ... Ma ... Ma ...”
By a curious coincidence, the names of several persons connected with these communications begin with those two letters—Mary K., Mary Kendal, Mansfield, Maynard, Margaret—and I suggested each of them in turn, before it occurred to me that “M. A.” signified Matthew Alden, the usurper.