The garden looks east over the viaduct of Lanvallay, and above the misty violet that enshrouded the land a trail of pale shirley poppies was strung out over the sky--the leagues of cloud-tops caught by the last of the sun. The parapet in front of me hid all else as I sat. One or two people stood against it, looking out over the abyss; a few others moved slowly along the ramparts. The limes above me were already benighted, the dark mass of St Sauveur hidden behind them. The crowded vedettes had long since departed, and the comparatively few visitors who stay in Dinan were probably at the Café de Bretagne at the other side of the town. The dark tangle, that for the hundredth time I was trying to unravel, is almost impossible of statement, so little of the solid was there to support it, such mazes of spiritual conjecture did it open up. Once more I will do the best I can with it. Understand, to begin with, that he had now repeated what I had better call the "experience of the flash-lamp." Formerly it had been Julia; now it was Jennie. Therefore this, if anything, seemed to follow: THAT OTHER TIME THIS TIME Julia ... Jennie ... The approach of the lamp ... The approach of the lamp ... He had been greatly loved. He was greatly loved. He had not loved. She was his very heart. He had remembered nothing. I knew nothing whatever about it. But he had woke up younger I knew nothing whatever about by eleven years. it. Had ended in fluctuations of I knew nothing whatever about his "B" memory. it. But, save for that "flash-lamp" I knew nothing whatever about gap, his "A" memory had it. been unimpaired. He had therefore attained a I knew nothing whatever about duality of (approximately) it. eighteen and forty-five. But did he still retain it? It was precisely that that I wanted to know. In other words, the problem that had confronted me when he had disappeared from his rooms in Cambridge Circus, when he had left Trenchard's rooms in South Kensington and had got to France by swimming the Channel, leaped upon me again on the ramparts of that ancient French town. How old was he now? But no, I have not finished yet. Let us take it a little further. The state of his memory at this point was a matter of the most urgent importance, since I now began to suspect that the whole of his chance of again going forward turned on it. So we now had: Julia had taken his sin, but not His cry had been immediately his memory of it, since he had followed by an aching cry cried out upon my cowardice in for help and advice. speaking of it at Le Port gap.