On the day he carried the manuscript to Copeley's he brought back a packet of letters, magazines, and newspapers. 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. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair. "It was that song that put it into my head to cut my name on the beam. It was empty.
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