Page:Anderson--Isle of seven moons.djvu/154

142 rather, with the stranger—two there was the woman, now, with arms folded on the gallery rail, peering down at her with amused triumphant eyes, and clad like the scarlet symbol of old. It was nothing so fine and dramatic as that—it was a farce—a circus—nothing more. It was all so horrible—or was it now—rather fitting, in fact; the blasphemies, the sacrilege quite appropriate.

So there they were, advancing up the aisle, the parrot still shrieking out his abominable "I'll be damned if I do."

Sally was little given to profanity—however, dazed as she was, the grotesque fancy occurred to her that this should have been precisely her own answer, if she had had the courage and sense. It was odd that as yet she didn't see in the rude interruption the sign of a respite if not of an ultimate reprieve.

But now the little man was taking something from the tall funny looking one, and was handing it to her. She tried to grasp it, but it fell from her fingers. Captain Harve was picking it up. But what was the little man saying?

"Better look at it, Lady Celeste, it's your pardon from the governor." Then to himself,—"Stopped at the altar—saved from the electric chair! Shades of Jean Libby! Can y' beat it! Why it's the sensation of the year—the scoop of the ages!"

Captain Fairwinds looked up from the scroll and spoke to the little man.

"I don't know where you hail from, or where you got this, but let me tell you, son, it's no time for practical joking."

"From the look of the bride and the merry bridegroom