It was very dishonourable of Carlotta Adams to write to her sister. She’d promised me to tell nobody. I do think it was clever of me to see what a good thing it would be to tear off that one page and leave he instead of she. I thought of that all by myself. I think I’m more proud of that than anything else. Everyone always says I haven’t got brains – but I think it needed real brains to think of that.

I’d thought things over very carefully and I did exactly what I’d planned when the Scotland Yard man came. I rather enjoyed that part of it. I had thought, perhaps, that he’d really arrest me. I felt quite safe, because they’d have to believe all those people at the dinner and I didn’t see how they could find out about me and Carlotta changing clothes.

After that I felt so happy and contented. My luck had held and I really felt everything was going to go right. The old Duchess was beastly to me, but Merton was sweet. He wanted to marry me as soon as possible and hadn’t the least suspicion.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy as I was those few weeks. My husband’s nephew being arrested made me feel just as safe as anything. And I was more proud of myself than ever for having thought of tearing that page out of Carlotta Adams’ letter.

The Donald Ross business was just sheer bad luck. I’m not quite sure now just how it was he spotted me. Something about Paris being a person and not a place. Even now I don’t know who Paris was – and I think it’s a silly name for a man anyway.

It’s curious how, when luck starts going against you, it keeps on going. I had to do something about Donald Ross quickly, and that did go all right. It mightn’t have, because I hadn’t time to be clever or think of making an alibi. I did think I was safe after that.

Of course Ellis told me you had sent for her and questioned her, but I gathered it was all something to do with Bryan Martin. I couldn’t think what you were driving at. You didn’t ask her whether she had called for the parcel in Paris. I suppose you thought if she repeated that to me I should smell a rat. As it was, it came as a complete surprise. I couldn’t believe it. It was just uncanny the way you seemed to know everything I’d done.

I just felt it was no good. You can’t fight against luck. It was bad luck, wasn’t it? I wonder if you are ever sorry for what you did. After all, I only wanted to be happy in my own way. And if it hadn’t been for me you would never have had anything to do with the case. I never thought you’d be so horribly clever. You didn’t look clever.

It’s funny, but I haven’t lost my looks a bit. In spite of all that dreadful trial and the horrid things that man on the other side said to me, and the way he battered me with questions.

I look much paler and thinner, but it suits me somehow. They all say I’m wonderfully brave. They don’t hang you in public any more, do they? I think that’s a pity.

I’m sure there’s never been a murderess like me before.

I suppose I must say goodbye now. It’s very queer. I don’t seem to realize things a bit. I’m going to see the chaplain tomorrow.

Yours forgivingly (because I must forgive my enemies, mustn’t I?).

Jane Wilkinson.

P.S. Do you think they will put me in Madame Tussauds?