The description was exact. Beryl had been there, and of her own accord applied for a licence to marry me. The mystery increased each moment.
“Was she alone?” I inquired.
“No. Her father was with her.”
“How did you know he was her father?”
“He introduced himself to me as such—Major Wynd.”
“Major Wynd!” I ejaculated. “But Mr Wynd is not an officer. What kind of man is he?”
“Of military appearance, round-faced, and good-humoured.”
“Old?”
“Certainly not—scarcely fifty. He wore a single eyeglass.”
The description did not answer to that of the Tempter, but rather to that of Tattersett. The truth seemed plain: the Major had posed as Beryl’s father, and had given his consent to the marriage.