“Suicide? No?”
“Well, it was and it wasn’t. Tell me what you saw, and you shall hear all about it.”
Von Lindheim walked to the mantel and leaned against it. “We are doomed, Szalay. We are both dead men.”
His colleague had turned away to hide, perhaps, the fear that was in his face.
“What did you fellows see?” I repeated.
“Enough,” Von Lindheim answered, with a short laugh of desperation, “to make our lives forfeit. The devil must have led us to investigate that light.”
“What did you see?”
“A sight for which we have now to pay,” Szalay broke in bitterly.
“The little chapel was just dimly lighted by a pair of candles,” Von Lindheim proceeded. “Through a light-coloured pane in the low window we could see a priest in vestments standing before what had once been the altar. It was curious. He seemed the only person in the chapel. Soon he looked up, as though at the entrance of some one, and opened the book in his hand. Three people, a man and two ladies, came quickly up the chapel and placed themselves before him at the altar. You may guess who two of them were. Von Orsova and the Princess Casilde. They had come to be married.”
“Married! That accounts for everything.”