The ceremony was in Russian and very brief. The priest spoke in a kind of droning chant and his deep voice rolled around the empty building and came back from the dark recesses behind the heavy pillars with a hollow echo more striking than cheerful.
I knew enough of the ritual to do the right thing at the right moment and when it all came to a rather abrupt and unexpected end, I heard Siegel, whose modernity was quite unaffected by the weird strangeness of the scene, exclaim in a quite audible tone, “First Half,” as if it had been a football match.
Marvyn saw to the completion of the legal formalities and then Helga slipped her hand in my arm and I led her away down the cold gaunt aisle.
I was too happy and proud to think of anything except my dear beautiful wife until on passing one of the plain sturdy pillars I felt her start, and glancing round saw Prince Kalkov step from its shadow. He did not speak to us, but joined the two men.
“He said he would be present; I had forgotten,” I whispered to Helga. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I wonder why he has hurried us so,” she said. “We shall soon know.”
When we reached the little room we found Mr. Hoskyns, the American chaplain, waiting for us, and Marvyn who came in alone introduced him.
“Where’s Siegel?” I asked.
“Trying to interview Prince Kalkov,” he replied with a dry smile.
Siegel came in time for the second ceremony which was even shorter than that in the chapel, and when the signing was finished and the others had congratulated us, Helga got ready to leave.