“Pray calm yourself, my reverend friend,” said that masculine voice beside him.  “No personal harm is intended you, and I have no designs upon your watch and purse.  I merely want the loan of you in your clerical capacity, to perform the ceremony of marriage over a runaway couple.  I knew you wouldn’t come of your own free will; therefore, I took the trouble to ascertain about those little expectations of yours from Mrs. Holywell, and used that good lady, whose health, I trust, is no worse than usual, as a cat’s-paw.  You must pardon the deception, dear sir, and you must perform the marriage ceremony without inconvenient scruples, or hesitation, or questions.  Be thankful, for the sake of morality, we see the propriety of getting married at all.  You are listening to me and paying attention to me, I hope?”

Paying attention!  Yes, his whole soul was absorbed in listening.

“Where I take you, who I am, you will never find out.  Don’t try, my dear Mr. Rashleigh, even if you have the opportunity.  Marry me—­for I am to be the happy bridegroom—­and don’t utter another word, save and except the words of the ceremony, from the time you enter my house until you leave it.  If you do your part like the prudent, elderly gentleman I take you to be, you will find yourself back in your pleasant study, safe and sound, before morning dawns.  If not—­”

There was an awful sound, the sharp click of a pistol.  No words in any known language—­and the parson knew all the languages, dead and alive—­could have filled up the hiatus so eloquently or so convincingly.

The cold perspiration started from every pore, and each tooth in his clerical jaws clattered like pairs of castanets.

They drove, and they drove, and they drove through the wild, wet night, as if they meant to drive forever.

But they stopped, after a horribly long interval, and the parson was helped out into the rain, out of the rain into a house, led up a flight of stairs, and seated in a chair.

“Now, my dear sir, permit me to remove these uncomfortable incumbrances, and do, do try to overlook the painful necessity which compelled me to use them.  It goes to my heart, I assure you.  There!”

The last bandage dropped to the ground—­eyes, hands, mouth were free.  But Mr. Rashleigh could make no use of his freedom; he sat pale, benumbed, confounded, helpless.

“Rouse yourself, my dear sir,” said his persecutor, giving him a gentle shake; “don’t drop into a cataleptic trance.  Look up and speak to me.”

The reverend gentleman did look up, and uttered a sort of scream at sight of the ugly black mask frowning ghastily down upon him.

“Don’t be alarmed,” said the masked man, soothingly; “no harm is meant you.  My mask won’t hurt you.  I merely don’t want you to recognize me to-morrow, should we chance to meet.  My bride will be masked, too, and you will marry us by our Christian names alone.  Hers is Mary; mine is Ernest.  Do you understand?”