That letter was written by the man that died.

My husband found my reply to it, and my photograph, in the man's bag afterwards; and happening to be strolling past St.George's Hall just at the moment like--" "Well, happening to be strolling past St.George's Hall just at the moment like--" (Titters.) "I caught sight of him and spoke to him.

You see, I thought then that he was the man who wrote the letter." "What made you think so ?" "I had the photograph." "So that the man who wrote the letter and died didn't send his own photograph.

He sent another photograph--the photograph of your husband ?" "Yes, didn't you know that?
I should have thought you'd have known that." "Do you really expect the jury to believe that tale ?" Alice turned smiling to the jury.

"No," she said, "I'm not sure as I do.
I didn't believe it myself for a long time.