The next day having meanwhile procured the authorization of the courts, he was married to Sheila and went with her to live in her home; for Sheila, seeing there was no escape, and deciding to make the best of the situation, had feigned a willingness to accept his proposal.
Three days later, on a stormy morning, in the company of his wife Bofinger appeared in court to begin the formalities necessary to place Sheila in possession of Fargus's property. Sammamon, who trusted only his own eyes, occupied a distant corner where he listened attentively, seeking unsuccessfully to conceal the agitation which the prospect of his future gains caused in him.
The judge, who, despite the monotony of his profession, kept an interest in the romances of the law, instead of proceeding with the routine of the case, assumed an ex-officio air and said:
"Ah, this is that extraordinary case of disappearance—a very extraordinary one, Mr.—Mr. Bofinger. In my whole experience I don't think I remember another case like this."
"Your Honor," Bofinger said, "I represent my wife, the party in pleading."
"You're a lawyer, then, Mr. Bofinger?" the judge said in some surprise. "I do not remember your name before."
"In fact, I have never had the pleasure of appearing before your Honor."
"And what was the last heard of this Mr. Fargus?"
"Seven years ago, the twenty-sixth of this month," Bofinger said, "according to the depositions I have here."