But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. Frequently he would take up a box of talc and send a shower down his back, or fill his palms with the powder and rub his face and arms and hands. “I mean to go to prison directly the session is over,” said Miss Klegg. In the end, resolution triumphed, as it was sure to do, over the weaker emotions, and he laughed at his fears. Gosse! Dieu du ciel, but how did he get into the convent? She had perforce to obey his command, for speech was impossible.
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