His hand was on his revolver as the coachman jumped down to fling open the carriage door, for he intended to fight for his liberty to the last.
He glanced back through the carriage window, and the lights of the auto glared in his face. The short, thick-set man was getting out of the car, and the motor-cyclist had stood his machine up against the wall and was coming toward the carriage. Escape was going to be practically impossible. A wild thought of dashing out the opposite door of his carriage, boldly seizing the motor-cycle and making off on it passed through his mind, and then the door on his left was flung open and the carriage was immediately surrounded by six excited men in evening dress all talking at once. “Here you are at last!” they chorused.
“Where is the best man?” shouted some one from the doorway. “Hasn’t he come either?” And as if in answer one of the men by the carriage door wheeled and called excitedly: “Yes, he’s come! Tell him—tell Jeff—tell him he’s come.” Then turning once more to Gordon he seized him by the arm and cried: “Come on quickly! There isn’t a minute to wait. The organist is fairly frantic. Everybody has been just as nervous as could be. We couldn’t very well go on without you—you know. But don’t let that worry you. It’s all right now you’ve come. Forget it, old man, and hustle.” Dimly Gordon perceived above the sound of subdued hubbub that an organ was playing, and even as he listened it burst into the joyous notes of the wedding march. It dawned upon him that this was not a prison to which he had come but a church—not a court-room but a wedding, and horror of horrors! they took him for the best man. His disguise had been his undoing. How was he to get out of this scrape? And with his pursuers just behind!
“Let me explain——” he began, and wondered what he could explain.
“There’s no time for explanations now, man. I tell you the organ has begun the march. We’re expected to be marching down that middle aisle this very minute and Jeff is waiting for us in the chapel. I sent the signal to the bride and another to the organist the minute we sighted you. Come on! Everybody knows your boat was late in coming in. You don’t need to explain a thing till afterwards.”
At that moment one of the ushers moved aside and the short, thick-set man stepped between, the light shining full upon his face, and Gordon knew him positively for the man who had sat opposite him at the table a few minutes before. He was peering eagerly into the carriage door and Gordon saw his only escape was into the church. With his heart pounding like a trip hammer he yielded himself to the six ushers, who swept the little pursuer aside as if he had been a fly and literally bore Gordon up the steps and into the church door.
A burst of music filled his senses, and dazzling lights, glimpses of flowers, palms and beautiful garments bewildered him. His one thought was for escape from his pursuers. Would they follow him into the church and drag him out in the presence of all these people, or would they be thrown off the track for a little while and give him opportunity yet to get away? He looked around wildly for a place of exit but he was in the hands of the insistent ushers. One of them chattered to him in a low, growling whisper, such as men use on solemn occasions:
“It must have been rough on you being anxious like this about getting here, but never mind now. It’ll go all right. Come on. Here’s our cue and there stands Jefferson over there. You and he go in with the minister, you know. The groom and the best man, you understand, they’ll tell you when. Jeff has the ring all right, so you won’t need to bother about that. There’s absolutely nothing for you to do but stand where you’re put and go out when the rest do. You needn’t feel a bit nervous.”
Was it possible that these crazy people didn’t recognize their mistake even yet here in the bright light? Couldn’t they see his mustache was stuck on and one eyebrow was crooked? Didn’t they know their best man well enough to recognize his voice? Surely, surely, some one would discover the mistake soon—that man Jeff over there who was eyeing him so intently. He would be sure to know this was not his friend. Yet every minute that they continued to think so was a distinct gain for Gordon, puzzling his pursuers and giving himself time to think and plan and study his strange surroundings.
And now they were drawing him forward and a turn of his head gave him a vision of the stubbed head of the thick-set man peering in at the chapel door and watching him eagerly. He must fool him if possible.