"Now I am as pleased to hear you say that as if you had put me down a five-hundred pound note," cried Mr. Fauntleroy. "I daresay you'll not object, if called upon, to bear testimony that the marriage was registered there." "The register itself will be the best testimony," observed Mr. Wilberforce. "It would have been," said the lawyer; "but that entry has been taken out of the register." "Taken out!" repeated Mr. Wilberforce. "Taken out. It is not in now." "Stuff and nonsense!" cried the master. "So I said, when my clerks brought me word to-day that it was not in. The first sent, Green--you know the young dandy; it's but the other day he was in the college school--came back and said it was not there. Kenneth gave him a rowing for carelessness, and went himself. He came back and said it was not there. Then I thought it was time to go; and I went, and took Omer with me, who saw the entry in the book last November, and copied part of it. Green was right, and Kenneth was right; there is no such entry there." "This is an incredible tale," exclaimed Mr. Wilberforce. The old lawyer drew forward his chair, and peered into the rector's face. "There has been some devilry at work--saving your calling." "Not saving it at all," retorted Mr. Wilberforce, as hot as when he had been practically demonstrating of what birch is made in the college schoolroom. "Devilry has been at work, in one sense or another, and nothing short of devilry, if it be as you say." "It has not only gone, but there's no trace of it's going, or how it went. The register looks as smooth and complete as though it had never been in any hands but honest ones. But now," added the lawyer, "there's another thing that is puzzling me almost as much as the disappearance itself; and that is, how you got to know of it." "I heard of it from Travice Arkell." "From Travice Arkell!" "Yes, I did. And the way I came to hear of it was rather curious," continued the master. "One of my parishioners was thought to be dying, and I was sent for in a hurry, out of early school. Mr. Prattleton generally attends these calls for me, but this poor man had expressed a wish that I myself should go to him. It was between eight and nine o'clock, and Travice Arkell was standing at their gates as I passed, reading a letter which the postman had just delivered to him. It was from Mrs. Dundyke, with whom the Carrs were stopping----" "When was this?" interrupted Mr. Fauntleroy.