pty. Chickerel
turned towards the chancel, his eye being attracted by a red kneeling-
cushion, placed at about the middle of the altar-railing, as if for early
use. Mountclere strode to the vestry, somewhat at a loss how to proceed
in his difficult task of unearthing his brother, obtaining a private
interview with him, and then, by the introduction of Sol and Chickerel,
causing a general convulsion.

'Ha! here's somebody,' he said, observing a man in the vestry. He
advanced with the intention of asking where Lord Mountclere was to be
found. Chickerel came forward in the same direction.

'Are you the parish clerk?' said Mountclere to the man, who was dressed
up in his best clothes.

'I hev the honour of that calling,' the man replied.

Two large books were lying before him on the vestry table, one of them
being open. As the clerk spoke he looked slantingly on the page, as a
person might do to discover if some writing were dry. Mountclere and
Chickerel gazed on the same page. The book was the marriage-register.

'Too late!' said Chickerel.

There plainly enough stood the signatures of Lord Mountclere and
Ethelberta. The viscount's was very black, and had not yet dried. Her
strokes were firm, and comparatively thick for a woman's, though paled by
juxtaposition with her husband's muddled characters. In the space for
witnesses' names appeared in trembling lines as fine as silk the
autograph of Picotee, the second name being that of a stranger, probably
the clerk.

'Yes, yes--we are too late, it seems,' said Mountclere coolly. 'Who
could have thought they'd marry at eight!'

Chickerel stood like a man baked hard and dry. Further than his first
two words he could say nothing.

'They must have set about it early, upon my soul,' Mountclere continued.
'When did the wedding take place?' he asked of the clerk sharply.

'It was over about five minutes before you came in,' replied that
luminary pleasantly, as he played at an invisible game of pitch-and-toss
with some half-sovereigns in his pocket. 'I received orders to have the
church ready at five minutes to eight this morning, though I knew nothing
about such a thing till bedtime last night. It was very private and
plain, not that I should mind another such a one, sir;' and he secretly
pitched and tossed again.

Meanwhile Sol had found himself too restless to sit waiting in the
carriage for more than a minute after the other two had left it. He
stepped