When Derrick got back to the inn, he found Reggie at work on his
masterpiece.
"Put that away for a minute or two, Rex," he said. "I want to talk to
you. Do you know how to get married?"
"You catch your bride and bridegroom, dress them carefully, place them
in a church, add a parson and mix slowly and carefully. There is also
another way, much more expeditious and less trouble. You obtain a fresh,
fair-sized special licence----"
"That's it," said Derrick, nodding. "Be serious, Rex, if you can. I want
to know all about it."
"Quite so. And you've come to the right shop," said Reggie. "A novelist
knows everything, or what's the use of him! I'll tell you all about it.
And so you're going to marry your true love out of hand?" he said, when
he had imparted the required information. "I don't blame you. If my
angel would consent to marry me, I'd marry her the first available day,
hour, instant. But why this haste on your part? I should have thought
Miss Grant would have stipulated for the usual fuss and flare-up,
bridesmaids, wedding cake, speeches, reception, et cetera."
"She ought to have them all," said Derrick, with a sigh. "But there are
reasons why we should be married at once."
"One angel the less in England," said Reggie, with a sigh. "Well, you
leave it all to me. I'll fix it for you, as the Americans say. By the
way, do you know my friend, Lady Gridborough?"
"I did, but I don't," said Derrick, shortly. "At least, she doesn't know
me now--as you saw. No, I can't tell you. Confound it all, I'm like a
man in a beastly novel, a man 'with a secret,' a mystery."
"'Beastly novel!' I forgive you the blasphemy," said Reggie, "because I
treasure you. A real live man with a secret is more precious than rubies
in the eyes of a novelist. There, go in and get something to eat, if you
can eat; I couldn't, if I were going to marry Celia Grant."
"And I can't--eat, I mean," said Derrick, and with something between a
laugh and a sigh he rose and went into the inn.