My heart was close to bursting with delight as I contemplated how I was triumphing in every single sphere. Truly, I thought, I was blessed, that so much should be given to me so swiftly. I was all enthusiasm for a moment, but then my spirit deflated. “It is a trap,” I said. “Wallis will not help me. It is just a lure to get me to go back to Oxford. I will be thrown back into jail and hanged.”

“That is a risk, but Wallis is after bigger game than yourself, I think.”

I snorted. It was easy, I thought, to be calm and detached at the thought of someone’s else’s neck being stretched. I would have liked to see how he contemplated a march to the hanging tree himself.

The next move came a few days later. I had reluctantly come to accept that I would have to take the risk and place myself in Wallis’s hands, but my courage had failed me, and I was in this state of indecision when Thurloe came softly into the room where I was spending my time, and announced that I had a visitor.

“A Signor Marco da Cola,” he said with a faint smile. “It is strange how that man shows up in the most unexpected places.”

“He is here?” I said, standing up with astonishment. “Why?”

“Because I invited him. He is staying nearby and when I was told, I thought I really must meet the gentleman. He is most charming.”

I insisted on seeing Cola, for I wanted to hear everything. It was Thurloe who suggested that he might prove ideal as the intermediary for approaching the magistrate in Oxford, for I think even he did not trust Wallis as much as he said.

I do not need to justify, I hope, what I told him. I have given enough evidence to show how I had to escape the curse upon me and how limited my resources were. I had begged for release from Sarah Blundy’s curse, but had been rebuffed. She had tricked me into attacking my own guardian; the efforts of magicians, priests and wise men to repulse her had all failed, and—though I have not mentioned it in my story as much as I could have done—almost daily I was assaulted by strange happenings, and my nights were a torment of fervid visitations, so that I had no peaceful sleep. She attacked me mercilessly, perhaps with the hope that I would be sent insane. I now had the possibility of striking back, once and for all. I could not possibly afford to let that chance slip through my fingers. And I also had my loyalty to Thomas.

So I told Cola that I had visited her cottage on my escape, and had seen her as she came in, wild and excited. I told him that I had found Grove’s ring in her dress, and how I had instantly recognized it and taken it from her. How she had turned pale when I demanded how she had come by it. And how I would testify to all of this at her trial. I almost believed it myself by the time I had finished.

Cola agreed to relay this to the magistrate, and even reassured me by saying he was sure that my willingness to come forward in the name of justice, even though I was placing myself at risk, would stand me in good stead for the future.

I thanked him and, indeed, felt so warmly toward him that I could not forbear from giving him some information of my own.

“Tell me,” I said, “why is it that Dr. Wallis concerns himself with you? Are you friends?”

“No, indeed,” he said. “I have only met him once and he was very uncivil.”

“He wishes to talk to me about you. I do not know why.”

Cola repeated he had no understanding of it, then brushed the matter aside and asked me when I proposed to come to Oxford.

“I think it would be best to wait until just before the trial. I hope the magistrate will grant me bail, but I am in a mood not to be overtrusting.”

“So you will see Dr. Wallis then?”

“Almost certainly.”

“Good. I would like to offer you hospitality afterward, to celebrate your good fortune.”

And he went. I mention it only to demonstrate that there was much which Cola does not include even when he gives an account of conversations. Much of the rest of what he says is more or less correct, however. The magistrate arrived in high dudgeon and was all for arresting both Thurloe and myself until he heard of my evidence against Blundy; then he was all sweetness and accommodation—although I suspect Dr. Wallis may have already intervened and told him of the probability that Sir William would withdraw his suit, as indeed he did a few days later. Then I waited until word came that the trial was to begin and journeyed back into Oxford.

I did not have to give evidence, as it turned out, as the woman confessed to the crime—a surprising thing for, as I say, on this she was innocent. But the evidence against her was strong, and perhaps she realized that it was all over. I did not care; I was merely glad that she was to die, and that I did not have to perjure myself.

She hanged the next day, and instantly I felt her malign presence lifting from my spirit, like the first breath of cool, clear wind after a thunderstorm has removed the oppression from the air. It was only then that I realized how much she had tormented me, and how constant had been the drain on my soul.

In effect, there ends my story as well, for the rest is outside the scope of Cola’s account, and much of my own triumph is already well enough known. I never saw Cola again, for he left Oxford shortly afterward, but Wallis was highly satisfied with what I told him and gave me all the information I required. Within a month my name was restored and, although it was considered impolitic to proceed directly against Mordaunt, his rise was forever blocked. The man who, at one stage, was going to be the most powerful politician in the country ended his days in grubby obscurity, shunned by his old friends, enough of whom knew the truth about him. The favor of many men in high places, in contrast, won me the rewards my birth and position merited, and I exploited my good fortune so successfully I was soon able to begin rebuilding my estates. And, in the fullness of time I built my mansion just outside London, where my detested uncle comes to pay court to me, in the futile hope that I will pass some goodness on to him. Needless to say, he goes away empty-handed.

I have done much in my life which I regret and, if I had the opportunity, there is much I would now do differently. But my task was all important, and I feel reassured that I am acquitted of any serious offense. The Lord has been good, and though no man deserves it, my salvation has been no injustice. I would not have so much, and such a tranquillity of mind, had I not been blessed by His merciful providence. In Him I place all my trust, and have endeavored only to serve as best I can. My vindication is my assurance of His favor.