Part 13 (1/2)

”Whatever it is, dear, they're just as much mystified as we are. Did you hear him whistle? It is a signal.”

”I say, Anne, it's a beastly mess I've got you into,” groaned he.

”Dear old Harry, it is but the beginning of the mess you're getting yourself into. I love this--every bit of it.”

”You're ripping, Anne; that's what you are. I--Great Scotland! Here comes the head-waiter, but we don't dare show ourselves. Did you ever know such beastly luck?”

”There's another man too, away back there. And, look! Isn't that a light coming through the trees back of the gravestones? Good Heavens, Harry, we can't be married in a public thoroughfare. Everybody is walking with lanterns. It's awful.”

”Let's go around to the rear of the church,” he exclaimed suddenly.

”Perhaps we can get our brains to work on a plan of action. But, look here, Anne, no matter who they are or what they want, I'm going to marry you to-night if I have to do it in the face of the entire crowd.”

As they scurried off through the tall wet gra.s.s to a less exposed station, a solitary figure came haltingly through the little gate. It was the head-waiter, and, as he carried no lantern, he was compelled to light matches now and then; after getting his bearings he would dart resolutely on for a dozen paces before lighting another. Stopping in front of the church door, he nervously tried to penetrate the gloom with an anxious gaze; then, suddenly bethinking, he gave three timid little coughs. Getting no immediate response, he growled aloud in his wrath:

”I've coughed my head off in front of every house between here and the hotel, and I'm gettin' darned tired of it. I don't like this business; and I never could stand for graveyards. Good Lord! what's that?”

Three sharp whistles came to his alert ears, coming, it seemed, from the very heart of some grim old gravestone. A man strode boldly across the yard from the gate, his walk indicating that he was perfectly familiar with the lay of the land.

”Who coughed?” he demanded loudly. ”Is there no one here? What the d.i.c.kens does it mean? Joe Dauntless! Where are you? No fooling now; my wife's worse, and I can't stay here all night.” He whistled again, and the head-waiter coughed in a bewildered reply. ”That's queer. Nothing was said about coughing.”

”h.e.l.lo!” called the head-waiter. ”Is it you, sir?”

Joe Dauntless's cousin held his lantern on high and finally discovered the waiter near the pile of cordwood, ready to run at a moment's notice.

”Who are you?” demanded Mr. Carpenter.

”Gustave. But you ain't the man.”

”I ain't, eh? Didn't you whistle a minute ago?”

”I ain't supposed to. I cough. Say, do you know if a wedding has taken place here? I am a witness.”

”Oh, I see. He said he'd bring one. Are you alone?”

”I don't know. It feels like a crowd every time I cough. Are you the preacher?”

”No, I'm the bridegroom's cousin. We've got to get in through a window.

I couldn't find my key. Would you mind giving me a leg?”

”A leg? Nothing was said about legs,” said the waiter, moving away.

Carpenter laughed.

”I mean a boost up to the window.”

”Oh! Sure.”

”There's one in the rear I can smash. We'll get inside and light up. I can open the door from that side, too. Come on--follow me.” They turned the corner and followed the path so lately taken by Windoms.h.i.+re and Anne. As they came to the back of the church they were startled and not a little alarmed by the sound of sudden scurrying and a well-defined imprecation, but it was too dark for them to distinguish any one. While they were trying to effect an entrance through one of the windows, other mystified partic.i.p.ants in the night's affairs were looking on from secret and divers hiding-places. Far out in the little grove Derby and his old companion watched the operations of the church-breakers, the sickly glare of Carpenter's lantern as it stood upon the edge of the rain barrel affording an unholy light for the occasion. Windoms.h.i.+re and Anne, crouching behind a stack of old benches, looked on in amazement. Mr. Hooker, whose conscience was none too easy, doubtless for excellent reasons, peered forth from behind a tall tombstone. He had arrived at the conclusion that he was being hounded down as a body-s.n.a.t.c.her.