“I told you, Luke Tarbot, that there was such a thing as the last straw. There is also such a thing as the worm turning. I have reached the last straw, and, to employ the other metaphor, I am the worm, much trodden on and much suffering, who has at last turned. Now listen to what I am going to say. I am on my way to Haversham. From there I shall go straight to Pelham Towers. Do you know why? To tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. It was always your good pleasure to laugh at my mesmeric powers. When you read this letter you will no longer smile at them. “I am about to explain to you what I meant when I spoke of possessing the ace of trumps. Read and consider my words carefully. You often told me that Dr. Weismann of Paris was a humbug. Listen and tremble. He was no humbug. He was a man who possessed a marvelous personality, a strange and occult power. He imparted his knowledge to me, and I also found after some practise that I possessed the same intangible power. When you thought the child was dead he was not dead at all—he never died. That time when you wrote a certificate of his death he was only in a mesmeric sleep or trance. With care and cunning I had brought him to that pass. I never gave him a drop of the hyocene which you had provided me with. From time to time I subjected him to certain influences which produced trance. He got quickly and completely under my power. “On the night you saw him his condition simulated death so well that you were taken in. It resembled a similar case in Paris which I attended, in which death was so completely simulated that three physicians were taken in, and pronounced the patient dead.[1] Luke, little Sir Piers has never died. I weighted his coffin with iron weights wrapped in wool. I took the boy to my own lodgings. He is well now—in perfect health. My mother has the care of him, and when I tell my story I am going to produce him. Your whole case, therefore, falls to the ground. I tell you now in order that you may if you like leave the country while there is time. I give you this one last chance for the sake of the old love which I felt for you. Footnote 1: A fact. “Your revenge, Luke Tarbot, has come to nothing. Had you given me any return for the love which I lavished upon you, I would have been true to you to the extent of sinning for you, and going hand in glove with you in this. As it is, I have ceased to love you. I shall be punished, but it does not matter, for my days are numbered, and I would far rather spend them in prison than have the life of a brave and gallant gentleman like Richard Pelham any further imperiled. “You know the worst now, Luke, you know all. My ace of trumps is little Sir Piers, who is alive and well. “CLARA.”