se me the liberty, sir," broke in the old man, "but I think this
will be the young leddy who was done for the Cinema? I know her by her
hair. I'm not so sure, though, that I recognize you, sir, or----"

"No, no, it wasn't I. That was her guardian," Basil returned hurriedly.
"Now, Barrie, if you're ready----"

"Yes, I'm ready----" I began. I found that I could speak only in a
whisper. Or perhaps it was the whirr of a passing motor outside which
drowned my voice.

"Well then, come, dearest child, and stand here by me. Give me your
hand----Is anything the matter?"

I forgot to answer, the sound of that car out there was so like the
well-remembered purr of the Gray Dragon. But I seemed always to be
hearing a kind of undertone of Dragon music. Often I had turned my head
as we came from Oban, to see if some car gaining on us from behind were
the Gray Dragon. It never was; and this would not be. But it was not
passing after all. It was stopping near the house--as near as
Blunderbore would allow.

"Is anything the matter?" I heard the words more clearly the second time
he spoke.

"No," I said. "There is nothing----"

He took my hand, which was hanging by my side, for I had forgotten to
give it when he asked. His felt very hot to the touch, so mine must have
been cold. He pressed it warmly, and his eyes called to mine. There was
no light in the room, for it was not needed yet, and I could see that
his face was white. I wished above all things to pull my hand away from
him.

"I, Basil, take thee, Barribel----" he began formally.

"I forbid this marriage. It mustn't go on," said a voice at the door. It
sounded like the voice of my knight: but everything was so dream-like
and unreal that I thought the voice was part of the unreality. It could
not be his.

But it was. He came forward, covered with dust from head to foot, as if
he had been driving far and fast.

"Barribel MacDonald is already my wife," he said.

He took my hand away from Basil, who was so astounded that for an
instant he did not resist. But in another second a flood of rage seemed
to sweep over him, giving him strength and presence of mind.

"That's not true, and you know it!" he exclaimed, while Mrs. West stood
still as a statue, looking suddenly years older than before. "Barrie,
come to me."

But my knight would not let me go. He grasped my hand so tightly that it
hurt. I felt as if my fingers would break in his, and for just that
moment I was de