he night was still rich, she held out her hand.

"I can only thank you from the depths of my heart, Mr. Curtis," she
said. "I must trust someone, and I do trust you most implicitly."

"You will never regret it, Lady Hermione," he said reverently. He
wondered whether or not this was an occasion on which hand-kissing was
permissible, but contented himself with returning the friendly pressure
of the girl's fingers--retaining them, in fact, for a second or two.

"I have your word of honor that you will regard the ceremony as a
formal compact between us two?" she murmured, unaccountably shy, and
seemingly half-afraid that he meant to clasp her in his arms then and
there.

"You have," he said, relinquishing her hand. Perhaps, at that instant,
Puck sighed, and wondered what would have happened had this husband
only in name strained to his heart the bride whom he had vowed not to
embrace. But Curtis did nothing of the sort. His tone became
intensely practical and businesslike, and he glanced at his watch.

"It is half-past eight," he said. "How soon will you be ready to come
with me and hunt up a minister?"

"Now--I am ready now. Marcelle and I were waiting for--for that
unhappy Monsieur de Courtois when you arrived. It sounds rather
dreadful, Mr. Curtis, to talk of marriage, even as a mere means of
cheating the law, at a moment when a man is already lying dead for my
sake. Please don't consider me, but draw back, if you want to, before
it is too late."

"My grandfather commanded the Fifth Cavalry during the Civil War, Lady
Hermione."

"Pray, how does that interesting fact affect us?"

"It is well-known that the Fifth never retreat, and the habit has
become a family tradition."

He pocketed the license, and picked up the overcoat, meaning to put it
on in the hall while her ladyship was rearranging her hat. But
Marcelle was waiting there, hatted, and gloved.

"Have you fixed things?" she whispered breathlessly.

"We have," said Curtis.

"Goodness me! But I guessed it. Nobody can resist her, can they?"

"I didn't try," said Curtis, wriggling into the coat sideways.

"Poor _dear_. She has had a time. What a piece of luck I met her the
day she landed."

Curtis had no opportunity to inquire just what Marcelle meant, for Lady
Hermione had joined them. Sedulously keeping that tell-tale sleeve out
of sight, Curtis took the lead, and opened the door, which Marcelle
closed and locked.

While they were