You see, things were so very mixed, because Philippa’s memory was so curiously constructed that she had entirely forgotten the murder which she had committed; and even if I proved to her by documentary evidence that she had only murdered her own husband, it might not help to relieve her burdened conscience as much as I had hoped. There are times when I almost give up this story in despair. To introduce a heroine who is mad in and out, so to speak, and forgets and remembers things exactly at the right moment, seems a delightfully simple artifice. But, upon my word, I am constantly forgetting what it is that Philippa should remember, and on the point of making her remember the very things she forgets! So puzzled had I become that I consoled myself by cursing Sir Runan’s memory. _De mortuis nil nisi bonum!_ What a lot of trouble a single little murder, of which one thinks little enough at the time, often gives a fellow. All this while we were approaching Paris. The stains of travel washed away, my mother gave a sigh of satisfaction as she seated herself at the dinner table. As any one might guess who looked at her, she was no despiser of the good things of this life! That very night we went to the Hippodrome, where we met many old acquaintances. My own Artillery Twins were there, and kissed their hands to me as they flew gracefully over our heads towards the desired trapeze. Here, also, was the Tattooed Man, and I grasped his variegated and decorative hand with an emotion I have rarely felt. Without vanity I may say that Philippa and my mother had a _succès fou_. From the moment when they entered their box every _lorgnette_ was fixed upon them. All Paris was there, the _tout Paris_ of _premières_, of _les courses_, the _tout Paris_ of _clubsman_ of _belles petites_, of ladies _à chignon jaune_. Here were the Booksmen, the _gommeux_, they who _font courir_, the journalists, and here I observed with peculiar interest my great masters, M. Fortuné du Boisgobey and M. Xavier de Montépin. In the intervals of the performance _tout le monde_ crowded into our _loge_, and I observed that my mother and Lady Errand made an almost equal impression on many a gallant and enterprising young _impresario_. We supped at the _Cafe Bignon_; toasts were carried; I also was carried home. Next morning I partly understood the mental condition of Philippa. I had absolutely forgotten the events of the later part of the entertainment. Several bills arrived for windows, which, it seems, I had broken in a moment of effusion. Gendarmes arrived, and would have arrested me on a charge of having knocked down some thirty-seven of their number. This little matter was easily arranged.