But the great day came at last; the red tape of French administration
was successfully unknotted; and at noon they were wedded, with only we
three for witnesses, at the pretty chapel of St. Luke's, near the
Boulevard Montparnasse.
There was a little breakfast afterward at Mrs. Kemball's apartment,
and then our hostess bade them adieu, and her daughter and I drove
with them across Paris to the Gare de Lyon, where they were to take
train for a fortnight on the Riviera. We waved them off and turned
back together.
"It is a desecration to use a carriage on such a day," said my
companion: so we dismissed ours and sauntered afoot down the Boulevard
Diderot toward the river.
"So that is the end of the story," she said musingly.
"Of _their_ story, yes," I interjected.
"But there are still certain things I do not quite understand," she
continued, not heeding me.
"Yes?"
"For instance--why did they trouble to keep her prisoner?"
"Family affection?"
"Nonsense! There could be none. Besides the man dominated them; and I
believe him to have been capable of any crime."
"Perhaps he meant the hundred thousand to be only the first payment.
With her at hand, he might hope to get more indefinitely. Without
her----"
"Well, without her?"
"Oh, the plot grows and grows, the more one thinks of it! I believe it
grew under his hands in just the same way.
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