Mary E. Hanshew - The Riddle of the Frozen Flame

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"My lord and gentlemen of the jury, the tale is told. Justice has been
done an innocent man, and the rest of its doing lies in your capable
hands. I ask your permission to be seated."

His voice trailed off into silence, and across the court a murmur arose,
like the hum of some giant airplane growing gradually nearer and nearer.
A sort of strangled sob came from the back of Cleek's chair, and he
turned his head to smile into 'Toinette's wet eyes. In their depths
gratitude and sorrow were inexplicably mingled. His hand went out to her;
she ran toward him from her place, and in spite of judge and jury, in
spite of the order of the law, knelt down there at his side and pressed
her warm lips against his hand.

CHAPTER XXVIII

"TOWARD MORNING...."

The flower in Cleek's buttonhole was jauntily erect, his immaculately
garbed figure fitted in perfectly with every detail of the whole scene
of which he was a part. He looked--and was--the exquisitely turned-out
man-about-town. Only his eyes told of other things, and they, as the
organs welled to the sounds of the wedding march lighted up with
something that spoke of the man within rather than the man without. He
turned from his position at the altar (where he was fulfilling his duties
as best man to Sir Nigel Merriton) and glanced back over the curve of
his shoulder to where a girl sat, bending forward in the empty pew, her
face alight, her eyes, beneath the curving hat-brim, swimming with
tears.... She nodded as he saw her, and smiled, the promise of their
future together curving the sweet lips into gracious, womanly lines.
Behind her, on guard as usual, and gay in a gorgeous garment of
black-and-white checks, white waistcoat and flaming scarlet buttonhole,
sat Dollops, faithfully watching while Cleek assisted at the ceremony
that was uniting two souls in one, and casting aside forever the smirch
of a name that must rankle in the heart of her who had owned it in common
with the man who had so nearly wrought her soul's desolation.

... Then it was all over. The organ swelled once more with its tidings of
joy; upon her husband's arm 'Toinette passed down the tiny aisle, tears
running down her cheeks unchecked, and mingling with the smiles that
chased each other like sunbeams across her happy face. Cleek was at the
porch waiting for them as they came out. He reached forth a hand to each.

"Good luck--and God bless you both," he said. "This is a fitting end,
Merriton, and a new and glorious beginning."

"And every moment of it, every second of it we owe to you, Mr. Cleek,"
returned Sir Nigel, in a deep, happy voice. "Time alone can show our
gratitude--I can't."

Cleek bowed, and his hand went out suddenly to Ailsa Lorne, who had
stolen up beside him, went out and caught her hand and held it in a grip
that hurt. "I know, boy. And one day in the glad future I shall call upon
you--who knows?--to attend a similar ceremony on my behalf, and in which
Mr. Narkom here has promised to act as best man--with Dollops to bolster
him up if he should be attacked with nerves. Now be off with you and--be
happy. We'll see you later at the Towers, Merriton. Good-bye to you
both."

The door closed, the engine started, Dollops sprang back and they were
off. The boy turned suddenly, looked at Cleek and Ailsa standing there in
the sunshine of the little porch, at Mr. Narkom chuckling quietly behind
them, and--remarked:

"Gawd! Dunno which is the best--weddings or funerals! Strite I don't. Yer
snivels at bofe like a blinkin' fool wiv a cold in 'is 'ead. And when it
comes to _your_ time, Guv'nor! well, if yer don't let me myke a third at
the funnymoon, I'll commit hurry-skurry on yer wery doorstep!... An'
jolly good riddance ter bad rubbish, too!"

THE END

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