There is a theory that, within the next twelve months, the ill-assorted union was dissolved by Heald getting upset in a rowing-boat and drowned in Lisbon harbour. The theory, however, is a little difficult to reconcile with the fact that, on the close of the Great Exhibition at the end of 1851, he attended an auction of the effects, where he bought a parquet floor and had it laid down in his drawing-room at Berrymead Priory. After this he had a number of structural alterations added; fitted the windows with some stained glass, bearing his crest and initials; and, finally, did not give up the lease until 1855. Pretty good work, this, for a man said to have met with a watery grave six years earlier. As a matter of strict fact, Cornet Heald was not drowned, either at Lisbon or anywhere else. He died in his bed at Folkestone, in 1856. The medical certificate attributed the cause of death to consumption. In the _Gentleman's Magazine_, however, the diagnosis was different, viz., "broken heart." All things pass. In 1859 the executors of the dashing Cornet sold the Berrymead property for L7000, to be repurchased soon afterwards for L23,000 by a land-development company. The house now serves as the premises of the Priory Constitutional Club, Acton. A certain amount of evidence of Cornet Heald's one-time occupancy still exists. Thus his crest and motto, _Nemo sibi Nascitur_, are let into the mosaic flooring of the hall, and the drawing-room ceiling is embellished with his initials picked out in gold. CHAPTER XIII ODYSSEY I Notwithstanding the tie of alleged parenthood, domestic relations between them did not improve, and the couple soon parted. The knowledge that she was still "wanted" there kept Lola out of England. Instead, she went to Paris, where such unpleasantnesses as warrants could not touch her. There she was given a warm welcome, by old friends and new. During this visit to Paris an unaccustomed set-back was experienced. She received it from Emile de Girardin, of whom she endeavoured to make a conquest. But this "wild-eyed, pale-faced man of letters," as she called him, would have none of her. Perhaps he remembered what had befallen Dujarier. As was to be expected, the coming among them of Lola Montez attracted the attention of the _courrierists_, who earned many welcome francs by filling columns with details of her career. What they did not know about it they invented. They knew very little. Thus, one such article (appropriately signed "Fantasio") read as follows: