And while he stared in helpless awe at the cynic and termagant that jealousy had metamorphosed this timid, clinging creature into, they heard the conductor's voice at the rear door of the car: "Hurry up--we've got to start." They heard Lathrop's protest: "Hold on there, conductor," and Selby's plea: "Oh, I say, my good man, wait a moment, can't you?" The conductor answered with the gruffness of a despot: "Not a minute. I've my orders to make up lost time. All aboard!" While the minister was tying the last loose ends of the matrimonial knot, Mallory and Marjorie were struggling through the crowd to get at him. Just as they were near, they were swept aside by the rush of the bride and groom, for the parson's "I pronounce you man and wife," pronounced as he backed toward the door, was the signal for another wedding riot. Once more Ira and Anne were showered with rice. This time it was their own. Ira darted out into the corridor, haling his brand-new wife by the wrist, and the wedding guests pursued them across the vestibule, through the next car, and on, and on. Nobody remained to notice what happened to the parson. Having performed his function, he was without further interest or use. But to Mallory and Marjorie he was vitally necessary. Mallory caught his hand as it turned the knob of the door and drew him back. Marjorie, equally determined, caught his other elbow: "Please don't go," Mallory urged, "until you've married us." The Reverend Charles stared at his captors in amazement: "But my dear man, the train's moving." Marjorie clung all the tighter and invited him to "Come on to the next stop." "But my dear lady," Selby gasped, "it's impossible." "You've just got to," Mallory insisted. "Release me, please." "Never!" "How dare you!" the parson shrieked, and with a sudden wriggle writhed out of his coat, leaving it in Marjorie's hands. He darted to the door and flung it open, with Mallory hot after him. The train was kicking up a cloud of dust and getting its stride. The kidnapped clergyman paused a moment, aghast at the speed with which the ground was being paid out. Then he climbed the brass rail and, with a hasty prayer, dropped overboard. Mallory lunged at him, and seized him by his reversed collar. But the collar alone remained in his clutch. The parson was almost lost in the dust he created as he struck, bounded and rolled till he came to a stop, with his stars and his prayers to thank for injuries to nothing worse than his dignity and other small clothes. Mallory returned to the observation room and flung the collar and bib to the floor in a fury of despair, howling: "He got away! He got away!" CHAPTER XXXII THE EMPTY BERTH The one thing Mallory was beginning to learn about Marjorie was that she would never take the point of view he expected, and never proceed along the lines of his logic.