It ever afterward seemed like a weird dream to Jess, whether she walked or was carried down the long, dark, cold aisle, until at length she found herself in front of the altar, where the minister stood, with his open book in his hand. She felt as though she must turn and fly from the place, her fear was so great; but this, she feared, would be hard to accomplish, with her bridegroom on one side of her and Queenie on the other. In that moment it struck her as an evil omen that Queenie should have accompanied her to the altar, draped in crape and mourning attire. She had little time to think of this, however, for the marriage ceremony had already begun, and the man beside her was repeating after the minister: “I, John Dinsmore, do take thee, Jess, to be my lawful, wedded wife, to have and to hold, to cherish----” The sentence never was finished. Up from a nearby pew sprang a tall form, and with swinging strides he came down the aisle toward the altar, crying, in a deep, sonorous voice, that struck terror to two of those hearts before the altar: “Hold! Let not this ceremony proceed! I forbid the banns!” As he spoke, he threw back the collar of his coat, and took off his hat. There was a piercing cry of joy, and in an instant Jess had sprung from the side of the man at the altar and into the arms of the tall stranger. “What is the meaning of this, sir?” cried the good minister, staring in bewildered amazement from the one to the other. “It looks, parson, as though the game were up, and that the marriage is off, and that a more formidable game is on!” exclaimed Ray, hoarsely, as he beheld a brace of officers making for the spot where he stood, while as many more guarded each aisle, cutting off every avenue of escape. “I did not have quite time enough to carry out my ingenious scheme,” he added, quickly, “or I should have been far away from here by this time; anyhow, I shall not give the real John Dinsmore, as he is waiting to proclaim himself, the joy and the fortune he is looking forward to. He shall take a trip with me!” As he spoke, ere any one could spring forward to prevent the action, he pulled a small, silver-mounted revolver from his breast pocket, and pointing it at John Dinsmore, fired quickly. A second shot followed in less time than it takes to record it, and the second time the instrument of death was pointed against his own heart. For the next few moments all was confusion: in the _mêlée_ Jess had fainted, and Queenie, taking in all the situation at a glance, fled ignominiously from the scene, no one attempting to bar her exit, as it was understood by all present that this would probably be the course she would pursue. When the smoke had cleared away, it was found that John Dinsmore was uninjured; for once the practiced hand of Raymond Challoner had fired wide of its mark. In Challoner’s own case, the result was fatal. He had met death instantly, with that sneering laugh yet lingering on his lips.