"Beryl, my child, this is your wedding day. You are to be married to
the man you love. Listen!" Then in a nasal tone, which sounded weirdly
in the silence of the place, the clergyman began to drone the first
words of the Marriage Service, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered
together," until he came to the first question to which I responded in a
voice which sounded strange and cavernous.
I was selling myself for twenty thousand pounds. The thought caused me
a slight twinge of conscience. Turning to the woman at my side, he
asked--
"Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after
God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him,
and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health;
and, forsaking all other, keep ye only unto him as long as ye both shall
live?"
A silence fell, deep and complete.
Two ordinary-looking men, who had entered the church to serve as
witnesses, exchanged glances. Then a slight sound escaped my unknown
bride, like a low sigh, and we could just distinguish the reply--
"I will."
The remainder of the service was gabbled through. A ring which the
Tempter had slipped into my hand I placed upon her finger, and ten
minutes later I had signed the register, and was the husband of a woman
upon whose face I had never looked.
The name which she signed with mine was "Beryl Wynd"; beyond that I knew
nothing. Utterly bewildered at my position, I sat beside my bride on
the drive back, but she preserved silence, and I exchanged no word with
her. She shuddered once, as though cold. Her father accompanied us,
keeping up a lively conversation during the whole distance.
Arrived at the house, the woman who had sought me at Rowan Road came
forward to meet my bride, and at once accompanied her upstairs, while we
entered the dining-room. The two witnesses, who had followed in the
second carriage, quickly joined us. The butler Davies opened champagne,
and my health, with that of the bride, was drunk in solemn silence. The
man with the monocle was absent. Truly my nuptial feast was a strange
one.
A few minutes later, however, I was again alone in the library with the
Tempter, whose eyes had grown brighter, and whose face had assumed an
even more demoniacal expression. The door was closed, the silence
unbroken.
"So far all has been perfectly satisfactory," he said, halting upon the
hearthrug suddenly and facing me. "There is, however, still one
condition to be fulfilled, before I place the money in your hands."
"And what is that?" I inquired.
"That your wife must die before sunset," he answered, in a hoarse,
earnest whisper. "She must die--you understand! It is now half-past
twelve."
"What?" I cried, starting forward. "You would bribe me to murder your
own daughter?"
He shrugged his thin shoulders, made an impatient movement, his small
eyes glittered, and in a cold hard voice, he exclaimed--
"I said that it is imperative she should die before the money is yours--
that is all."