Even so, I said, I was afraid that it was hardly a service one could ask any divine to perform. "I know a party who'd jump at it," said Mr Niono, who was full of resource. "The Reverend Skipworth. _You_ know who I mean, Sawkins. Little chap in a check suit and goggles I introduced to you at the bar the other evening--always dropping in, he is. He'd do it, just for the lark of the thing. And he's a regular professional, you know," he added for my benefit, "though he don't sport a white choker in his off hours; likes to go about and see life for himself, and quite right. You get the licence, sir, and I'll guarantee that the Reverend Ninian Skipworth will do the job for you." So we left the hall, delighted, especially Lurana, with the unexpected ease with which our object had been attained. It had seemed at first the wildest extravagance, and now there was apparently every prospect that Lurana and I would really exchange our marriage vows in a den of forest-bred lions, unless (which, of course, was a possibility that had to be taken into account) the ecclesiastical authorities should refuse to grant a special licence. I was unable to apply in person at Doctors' Commons, for Lurana insisted that I should leave the whole matter in Chuck's hands, but I impressed upon him the necessity of absolute candour with the officials. Whether he told them all, whether they were remiss in making full inquiry, or whether--as I would rather not think--he intentionally deceived them, I cannot say, but at all events he came back triumphantly with the special licence. Wooker and Sawkins had fixed an early date, and wished the wedding to take place at night, so as to figure in the evening programme, but the Surrogate, or somebody at the office, had insisted that it must be in the afternoon, which would, of course, oblige Mr Sawkins to introduce it at a _matinée_ performance. Miss Rakestraw proved herself a born journalist. She placed her news at the disposal of an enterprising evening journal, whose bills that very same evening came out with startling and alliterative headlines such as: LOVE LAUGHS AT LIONS! _Canonbury Couple to Marry in Cageful of Carnivora._ and from that moment, as the reader will recollect, Lurana and I became public characters. There were portraits--quite unrecognisable--of us in several of the illustrated weeklies, together with sketches of and interviews with us both, contributed by Miss Ruth's facile stylograph, and an account of the Professor, contributed by himself.