Somebody gets hold of the synopsis of a story of mine, Heaven
knows how--"
"That is fairly easy. The synopsis was short, I suppose?"
"Only a few lines, say 1,000 words, a sheet of paper. My writing is very
small. It was tucked into a half-penny open envelope--a mazagine office
envelope, marked 'Proof, urgent.' There were the proofs of a short story
in the buff envelope."
"Which reached its destination in due course?"
"So I hear this morning. But how on earth--"
"Easily enough. The whole thing gets slipped into a larger open envelope,
the kind of big-mouthed affair that enterprising firms send out circulars
and patterns with. This falls into the hands of the woman who is at the
bottom of this and every other case, and she reads the synopsis from
sheer curiosity. The case fits her case, and there you are. Mind you, I
don't say that this is how the thing actually happened, but how it might
have done so. When did you post the letter?"
"I can't give you the date. Say ten days ago."
"And there would be no hurry for a reply," Bell said, thoughtfully. "And
you had no cause for worry on that head.
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