He nodded slightly, strengthened by the well known voice. He heard little more that was understandable, though a great deal was said. At last he discovered that the minister was saying:
“Do you, Valentine, take this woman to be your lawful wife?”
“There was a hush in the great church as all eyes turned toward Valentine Morley. He tried to answer, but something stuck in his throat; suddenly his throat and mouth were drier than they had ever been.
“Say yes, you dumbbell!” grated the voice of his best man, softly. “This is no time to change your mind.”
Val gulped again, a light perspiration bedewing his brow.
With an extreme effort he spoke.
“I do!” he rasped hoarsely.
“You do what?” inquired a voice in front of him, and he turned to discover the sinister figure of Ignace Teck. The dream vanished instantly.
There was a gasp of disappointment as he discovered that there was no wedding; that he was lying on a couch in a very uncomfortable position, staring up at the huge figure of the handless one.
“Go to hell!” he rasped at Teck, annoyed. The change was too great to accept all at once. He stared at Teck a little curiously, half expecting him to dissolve, to disappear like the figures of his dream. But Ignace Teck was doing no disappearing this day—this was his day to appear, not to disappear. He was an apparition, but flesh and blood apparition.
“Ah, your usual courteous self,” came the suave voice of Teck.
Val tried to sit up, and found that it was difficult.
