Once decided upon, the details of the plan were soon settled. A special license would be procured, and the marriage would take place at a village church in Gloucestershire, the vicar of which was an old friend and schoolfellow of Herriard’s. Then, with all the wariness and secrecy they could devise, they would set off upon the long journey to Rohnburg, trusting to chance for safety, and to the improbable event that Gastineau might see fit to abandon his scheme of persecution and pursuit. At least, they argued, the danger would not be increased by the change of locality. He might, indeed, be better able to deal with his enemy, should he follow him, in that remote spot than in one of the centres of civilization, where the rules of law and order permit no drastic measures for obviating an unprovable danger. Anyhow at Rohnburg they would be man to man.
A very few days saw Herriard quite recovered from the hurt which had by good fortune just fallen short of its sinister intent, and the plans for the hurried marriage were carried through without a hitch. Both Alexia and he felt that the peaceful village church in its picturesque seclusion made the ceremony, which derived an added solemnity from the threatening cloud of the unknown which in the glorious sunshine grew darker by contrast, fitting indeed to a union set in all the element of romance. But that day of happiness and many that followed were unmarred by any sign of the dreaded fate that should be dogging them. Whether Gastineau were near or far from them, they were troubled by no suggestion of his presence or intentions; their world, full of snatched delight, seemed free from that hateful influence.
From the lovely rural nook Herriard and his bride made their way across country to Harwich, thence to the Continent; and reached Vienna, the penultimate stage of their journey, without any disquieting incident.
With a confidence born of the continued immunity from all indication of danger, they determined to stay two days in the fascinating Austrian capital. On the morning after their arrival Herriard happened to meet Dr. Hallamar in the Kärnthnerstrasse. An impulse made him accost the great specialist, and speak of the subject which dominated his mind. After a few words of greeting, he said, “That was a wonderful cure of yours, Doctor, in the case of Mr. Murray.”
Just a film of caution seemed to form over the professional enthusiasm which illuminated the doctor’s face.
“Ah, yes; in many ways the most remarkable of my experience. Unfortunately——” he broke off, eyeing Herriard doubtfully. “A singular man, your friend Mr. Murray,” he added, tentatively, it seemed.
“Very,” Herriard agreed. “You refer to his wishing to keep his cure a secret?”
Hallamar nodded, throwing out his hands expressively. “Ach! There it is,” he exclaimed vehemently. “The most extraordinary case of all I have treated. The most—I say it without vanity; science is, as I follow it, too serious, too stern in its reality to admit of that—the most surprising cure, utterly unhoped-for; I can tell you, Mr. Herriard, I undertook the case with great reluctance. My time is precious; moreover I am not fond of courting failure, and charging a necessarily high fee for a foregone disappointment. But there was something observable in your friend’s character and temperament which induced me to undertake the experiment, for it was nothing more.”
“He is a man of great determination.”
The Professor made a significant gesture. “Quite abnormal. And it was in a great measure to that we owe a cure which comes as near to a miracle as science has yet attained. Ah! such strength of will, such fixity of purpose, what would the world be if they were general? A paradise in which all evils and difficulties would be overcome—or a hell of restless intellect. Well,” he gave a shrug and a smile, “we are better as we are. Nevertheless your friend is a very remarkable man: it is a personality with which I am pleased, as an experience, to have been brought in contact.”