good deal more pure and
innocent than when we first met. True, she had been secretly married to
a man under a name which she knew to be false.

True, she had given birth to a baby whose later fate remains a mystery
even to this day. True, her hands were stained with the blood of Sir
Runan Errand.

But why speak of Redistribution, why agitate for Woman's Suffrage, if
trifles like these are to obstruct a girl's path in society?

Philippa's wrongs had goaded her to madness. Her madness was responsible
for the act. She was not mad any longer. Therefore she was not
responsible. Therefore Philippa was innocent.

If she became mad again, then it would be time to speak of guilt.

But would these arguments be as powerful with a British as they
certainly would have proved with a French jury?

Once Philippa seemed to awaken to a sense of the situation.

Once she asked me 'How she came to my home that night?'

'You came _out of_ the whirling snow, and _in_ a high state of
delirium,' I answered, epigrammatically.

'I thought I came on foot,' she replied, dreamily.

'But, Basil,' she went on, 'what afterwards? What's the next move, my
noble sportsman?'

What, indeed! Philippa had me there.

Clearly it was time to move.

In order to avert suspicion, I thought it was better not to shut up my
house.

For the same purpose, I did a little in crime on my own account.

A man tires of only being an accessory.

William, the Sphynx, obviously 'was in the know,' as sporting characters
say. Was in the know of what was in the snow! I must silence William.

I took my measures quietly.

First I laid in two dozen of very curious pale sherry at half-a-crown.

I bought each bottle at a separate shop in a different disguise (making
twenty-four in all), that my proceedings might not attract attention.

I laid down the deadly fluid with all proper caution in the cellar.

At parting from William I gave him five shillings and the cellar key,
telling him to be very careful, and await my instructions.

I knew well that long before my 'instructions' could reach him, the
faithful William would be speechless, and far beyond the reach of human
science.

His secret would sleep with the White Groom.

Then Philippa and I drove to town, Philippa asking me conundrums, like
Nebuchadnezzar.

'There was something I dreamed of. Tell me what it was?' she asked.

But, though better informed than the Wise Men and Soothsayers of old, I
did no