prison cell, of my own free
will, and without coercion from any one; partly because I know that the
evidence concerning my share in the Vrain conspiracy is strong against
me, and partly because I wish to exonerate my daughter Lydia.

"She is absolutely innocent of all knowledge concerning the feigned
death of her husband and his actual existence in a private lunatic
asylum; and on the strength of this confession of mine--which will fix
the guilt of the matter on the right persons--I demand that she shall be
set free. It is not fair that she should suffer, for I and Ferruci
planned and carried out the whole conspiracy. Well, Ferruci has punished
himself, and soon the law will punish me, so it is only justice that
Lydia should be discharged from all blame. On this understanding I set
out the whole story of the affair--how it was thought of, how it was
contrived, and how it was carried out. Now that Count Ferruci is dead,
this confession can harm no one but myself, and may be the means of
setting Lydia free. So here I begin my recital.

"I was always an unlucky man, and the end of my life proves to be as
unfortunate as the beginning. I was born in London some fifty and more
years ago, in a Whitechapel slum, of drunken and profligate parents, so
it is little to be wondered at that my career has been anything but
virtuous or respectable. In my early childhood--if it may be called
so--I was beaten and starved, set to beg, forced to thieve, and never
had a kind word said to me or a kind deed done to me. No wonder I grew
up a callous, hardened ruffian. As the twig is bent, so will the tree
grow.

"Out of this depth of degradation I was rescued by a philanthropist, who
had me fed and clothed and educated. I had at his hands every chance of
leading a respectable life, but I did not want to become smug and
honest. My early training was too strong for that, so after a year or
two of enforced goodness I ran away to sea. The vessel I embarked on as
a stowaway was bound for America. When I was discovered hiding among the
cargo we were in mid-ocean, and there was nothing for it but to carry me
to the States. Still, to earn my passage, I was made cabin-boy to a
ruffianly captain, and once more tasted the early delights of childhood,
viz., kicks, curses, and starvation. When the ship arrived in New York I
was turned adrift in the city without a penny or a friend.

"It is not my purpose to describe my sufferings, as such description