I took my visitor upstairs into a back room, the two medical gentlemen being there in waiting on the floor beneath to see the patient, and to give me their certificates.  After quieting Lady Glyde by the necessary assurances about her sister, I introduced my friends separately to her presence.  They performed the formalities of the occasion briefly, intelligently, conscientiously.  I entered the room again as soon as they had left it, and at once precipitated events by a reference of the alarming kind to “Miss Halcombe’s” state of health.

Results followed as I had anticipated.  Lady Glyde became frightened, and turned faint.  For the second time, and the last, I called Science to my assistance.  A medicated glass of water and a medicated bottle of smelling-salts relieved her of all further embarrassment and alarm.  Additional applications later in the evening procured her the inestimable blessing of a good night’s rest.  Madame Rubelle arrived in time to preside at Lady Glyde’s toilet.  Her own clothes were taken away from her at night, and Anne Catherick’s were put on her in the morning, with the strictest regard to propriety, by the matronly hands of the good Rubelle.  Throughout the day I kept our patient in a state of partially-suspended consciousness, until the dexterous assistance of my medical friends enabled me to procure the necessary order rather earlier than I had ventured to hope.  That evening (the evening of the 27th) Madame Rubelle and I took our revived “Anne Catherick” to the Asylum.  She was received with great surprise, but without suspicion, thanks to the order and certificates, to Percival’s letter, to the likeness, to the clothes, and to the patient’s own confused mental condition at the time.  I returned at once to assist Madame Fosco in the preparations for the burial of the False “Lady Glyde,” having the clothes and luggage of the true “Lady Glyde” in my possession.  They were afterwards sent to Cumberland by the conveyance which was used for the funeral.  I attended the funeral, with becoming dignity, attired in the deepest mourning.

My narrative of these remarkable events, written under equally remarkable circumstances, closes here.  The minor precautions which I observed in communicating with Limmeridge House are already known, so is the magnificent success of my enterprise, so are the solid pecuniary results which followed it.  I have to assert, with the whole force of my conviction, that the one weak place in my scheme would never have been found out if the one weak place in my heart had not been discovered first.  Nothing but my fatal admiration for Marian restrained me from stepping in to my own rescue when she effected her sister’s escape.  I ran the risk, and trusted in the complete destruction of Lady Glyde’s identity.  If either Marian or Mr. Hartright attempted to assert that identity, they would publicly expose themselves to the imputation of sustaining a rank deception,