She was dressed in white silk—the long cloak had been discarded, and the heavy black veil that had screened her was now supplanted by a gauzy white one, through which the faintest glimpses only could be seen of her face. She was a picture indeed.
Eric held his breath.
He saw Prescott rush forward and take her hand with the utmost eagerness. Then the other led her forward. They stood in front of the second man, who held a book in his hand.
“Good heavens!” muttered the detective.
He rubbed his eyes.
What mockery was this? A marriage—when she was already another man’s wife! He could hardly believe his sight.
The voice of the preacher aroused him, and started him into life.
This must not be. It was sacrilege.
Knowing the facts of the case he would be abetting a crime if he allowed this thing to go on without raising an objection.
So, while the minister was still talking, Eric suddenly sprang into the room.