Double Confusion

Pliny writes:

Most amicable greetings to Professor Healey, from Pliny the Elder,

Sir, I am indeed that Pliny who wrote a story that was published in Velosophy. If I recall, it was a mystery, about a disappearing bicycle, in which I featured as an amateur detective, in the process being accidentally taken for the Messiah by the singing members of the local Korean Church. I am not too modest to admit that my story was enthusiastically received. The editors of Velosophy are therefore well disposed towards me, and I shall be very pleased to put your name forward as a potential contributor. Your interest in bicycle philosophy does you great credit, sir.
I am, etc...

He sends the email. A short time later he receives a reply.

Pliny: Oh, drat and blast!

Me: What's the matter?

Pliny: I've sent it to the wrong Professor Healy! How could I do it twice?

Me: You mean you sent it to the Classics Professor Healy, the one you were going to complain to?

Pliny: Yes, and now he has replied, thanking me for the invitation to contribute to Velosophy.
Listen to this:

Dear Gaius Plinius Secundus, what a wonderful surprise to hear from you after all this time. I had not realised you were still alive! I hope you do not mind me saying so. I was delighted, if a little surprised, to be invited to write something for the magazine Velosophy. It is a great honour, I understand. Your own story, which I have not read, sounds a remarkable one. I hope I shall come up with something if not as good, at least worthy of your confidence in me as a writer. I will admit, many years have passed since I last rode a bicycle. PS. Just a small point. My name is spelled Healy.

Me: Is that it?

Pliny: What do you mean is that it? It's a disaster! I can hardly write him a complaining letter now. And furthermore I am obliged to write to the editors on behalf of two Professor Healeys or Healys, both of whom are virtually unknown to me.

Me: Are you fearful for your reputation?

Pliny: No, no. Of course not.