Chapter XXIX—A LAST PRECAUTION
IT was a quaint ceremony, our marriage.
The clock was close on the stroke of ten when Siegel and I reached the prison where Marvyn was already waiting for us in the room in which Helga and I had seen each other. He shook hands with Siegel and congratulated him.
“On getting in or getting out?”
“Both,” replied Marvyn, and they laughed.
“This is a queer show,” said Siegel.
“Denver was never conventional,” returned Marvyn with a shrug of the shoulders.
“How do they tie them up over here? Greek Church?” queried Siegel.