This is one of those stories that is intriguingly unresolved, and opens up more questions as more possibilities emerge.
It began when the builders were working on number 59, Wrawby Street in Brigg. As workmen took floorboards out, they found a cache of letters and one, separate from the rest, was on one sheet of paper, with a scribbled note in blue; this had been put in a sealed envelope, and had even been waxed. It was a suicide note. This was written on the sheet:
Sunday 4th day of August.
To whom it may concern.
I, Thomas Benjamin Swift, now and on this day of Sunday in the year of our Lord 1901, do hereby confess to the murder of Molly Brown, maid of this establishment. We had meetings, and she threatened to reveal that she had conceived. This I could not allow. Now I cannot live with the burden of guilt any longer so I have decided to end it all.
Whosoever should find this letter make all haste to the parish vicar so that he can pray for my forgiveness.
David Robinson, who first wrote about the note, comments that, in 1994, he searched the trade directories and found that the property was owned by one John Broughton, a grocer, in 1896. Then, by 1909 the tradesman there was Samuel Danby, a draper. David Robinson notes that other letters found in the cache referred to Molly Brown. But there are no records of any murder. The material presents us with a piece of detective work. There are several possibilities: the whole thing may be a hoax done much later, for some amusement; the letter may have been written at the time, but for similar reasons, or it may have been fabricated by a journalist for other writers to access. Of course, it may be perfectly genuine. One detail in support of this is the authenticity of the language. The phrase, ‘This I could not allow’ is convincing as the expression and tone of the time. The extreme formality of the note also suggests that there is a real feeling there, totally unbearable guilt.