huge thickness of the wall which formed a
junction between the old house and the more modern wing. The wonderful
chimney was not a true chimney at all, but gave ventilation and light,
also a means of escape by way of a rope ladder over the roof. But the
rope had fallen to pieces long ago, and the prisoner of these days might
never have found means of escape, had it not been for that trump-card
named Bertie. The room under the twisted chimney would have been a
convenient home substitute for the family vault.

Fate was for us, however--and for her. Even the Lady with the Shears
might have felt compunction in cutting short the thread of so fair, so
sweet a life as Cecil Scarlett's. Anyhow, that was what Terry said in
favour of Destiny, when some days had passed, and it was clear that with
good care the girl would live.

We didn't take her to the inn, as I had planned when keeping the taxi,
for Terry--caring less than nothing now for the night's rest of Princess
Avalesco--ruthlessly routed the ladies from their beauty sleep. What
they thought about us, and about the half-conscious invalid, I don't
know; for true to my bargain with the Scarletts, no explanations
detrimental to them were made. I think it passed with the ladies that
the girl had arrived ill, in a late train; and that Terry, emboldened by
love of her, begged his tenant's hospitality. So, you see, they were
partly right. Besides, the Princess Avalesco had lived in Roumania,
where _anything_ can happen.

When Jim brought back Bertie, he brought also a doctor--by request. The
doctor was his friend; and Jim's friends are generally ready to--well,
to overlook unconventionalities.

I told you Princess Avalesco loved herself so much that she didn't miss
Terry's love. She missed it so little that after a few weeks' romance
she proposed a bedside wedding at Dun Moat, with herself as hostess;
for, of course, nothing would induce her to shorten her tenancy!

Cecil had confessed to falling in love with Terry through the window, at
first sight.

Therefore the wedding did take place, with Jim Courtenaye as best man,
and myself as "Matron of Honour," as Americans say. Cecil looked so
divine as a bride that no woman who saw her could have helped wishing to
be married against a background of pillows! I almost envied her. But Jim
said that he didn't envy Terry. His ideal of a bride was entirely
different, and he was prepared to describe her to me some day when I was
in a