“Yessir,” said Edward Albert.
“But then how are we going to do it? The mischief is done. Here’s everything disarranged and out of order. All her friends will know and talk. Well, Mr Chaser, you’ve a way of arranging things, she says, she says you can arrange Anything; and you know all these people better than I do. How you can arrange this now passes my imagination. What’s to be done?”
“Well,” said Pip. “If you ask me——”
He came forward and stood for a moment with his mouth wide open, scratching his jaws, “Hey”, he said, slowly and extensively. “Nothing irreparable has happened. First there’s this lie about the temperature.”
Edward Albert murmured a protest.
“Lie?” said the Inspector, looked hard at Edward Albert, and said no more.
“Pure lie,” said Pip, “I invented it and I ought to know. He hadn’t a temperature. He had—hey—cold feet.... Still, we ought to keep that up. And the sooner Evangeline shows anxiety about it, the better. We can say she’s been round already, in a dreadful state of mind. Oh, I know that’s not true, but—hey—we can say it. And then we can say there was a misunderstanding about the date. And I lost the ring and got confused. Blame it on to me. That’s what Best Men are for. Any old story, and the more stories there are, the better. We contradict vaguely. We say to this man, ‘the fact of the matter is this’, and we say to that man, ‘the fact of the matter is that’. So everybody knows more than everybody else and we escape in the confusion. Just—hey—common sense, all that. The facts are bad. As you know, Sir, as your criminals know, the worse the facts are the more they have to be jumbled up. We aren’t going to have to be sifting the evidence, Sir, thank goodness. And the sooner we get the whole thing over, the better.”
“There I agree,” said the Inspector. “I stand by that firmly.”
“I’ll get busy,” said Puck-Pip. “I’ll do it.”
“But if there’s any more shilly-shally—”
“Block,” said Pip compactly, and turned to his client.
“You understand that, don’t you?”
Edward Albert nodded acquiescence. The Inspector stood up slowly and towered over his prospective son-in-law. He shook not so much a finger as the whole terror of Scotland Yard at him.
“That girl is going to be decently and properly married whether she likes it or not, whether you like it or not, whoever likes it or don’t like it”—he hesitated—“or not. Not twice will I have the honour of my family trailed in the mud. You marry her and you treat her properly. She’s got the temper of a vixen, I admit, but all the same she’s an educated young lady, and don’t you forget it. She’s a young lady and you’re no gentleman....”
He ceased to address Edward Albert. He soliloquised, looking over Pip’s head.
“I’ve often thought if perhaps I’d spanked her at times Or somebody had spanked her. I couldn’t have spanked her.... But there I was without a woman to care for her.... It’s no good crying over spilt milk. As a little kid.... If only she could have stayed always as a little kid.... She was such a bright little kid.”
The lament of the father through the ages....
So in a confusion of explanations the wedding feast was restored to the calendar and in due course Edward Albert found himself standing with Evangeline before a clergyman of venerable appearance and rapid enunciation. Pip stood behind Edward Albert like a ventriloquist behind his dummy, and three small bridesmaids of unknown provenance upheld Evangeline’s train. In a front pew stood Inspector Birkenhead, meticulously observant, and evidently resolved to knock the bridegroom’s sanguinary block off at the slightest hint of hanky-panky.
The elderly clergyman went off at headlong speed.
“Debloved getggether ’n sigh Gard ’n face congation join togeth man this wum ho’ matmony onble sta stuted Gard time man’s ’sincy.... dained remdy gainsin void forncation....fever after holdis peace.”
More of that....
Then suddenly Edward Albert found he was bring addressed. The quick-firing clergyman was saying, “Wilt have this Worn thy wed wife.... keep th’only unt her—s’long both sha’ live?”
“Eh?” said Edward Albert, trying to get it clear.
“Say ‘I will’”—from Pip.
“I will.”
He turned on Evangeline who answered very clearly;
“I will.”
“Who giv’ s’wom mad this man?”
Rapid exchange of glances between the Inspector and Pip. Assenting noise from the Inspector and something very like
“O.K.” from Mr Chaser, who reached over smartly and put Evangeline’s hand in the priest’s. There was a slight fumble and the priest, with an impatient tug, joined the two right hands as he proceeded. He was already well away with
“Peat after me. Was name?”
“Edward Albert Tewler, Sir.”
“I, Edward Albert Tewler, take thee, was name?”
“Evangeline Birkenhead.”
“Vangline Birk’ned to wed wife...”
Things drew to a climax.
“Whe’s ring?” Senile impatience manifested. But young Chaser was fully up to his duties. “Here, Sir. Yes, Sir, all correct.”
“On her finger.”
“Fourth finger—you chump,” from Pip in an audible whisper, and found it for him. “Don’t drop it.”
“Teat aft me. ...This ring Ivy wed.
“Kneel,” hissed Pip, with a slight but helpful kick.
And so the beautiful old ceremony drew to its end. Prayers and responses were mumbled by Edward Albert out of a prayer-book suddenly handed to him. There was more lightning discourse and then Edward Albert was walking down the aisle, with Evangeline clinging firmly to his arm, to the supply organist’s interpretation of the Wedding March from Lohengrin.
“Splendid,” whispered Pip. “Splendid. I’m proud of you. Chin up!”
So far as he had any feeling left in him, Edward Albert was proud of himself.
A crowd of strange faces outside. Damn! He’d forgotten to let Leaseholds know. He’d forgotten to tell Bert. Pip was handing him his hat and helping him into the first carriage. It was a black-lined carriage, but the coal-black horses were mitigated by abundant white rosettes. .
Edward Albert exhaled noisily. Evangeline remained perfectly still.
“Hey!” said Pip, realising that something had to be said about it: “That was—magnificent. Magnificent!”
“The flowers were beautiful,” said Evangeline.
“Pop,” said Pip.
Then they were going into the house of Pop Chaser. It was, Edward Albert realised, a stylish house, and it was doing itself in the best style. He had never seen such a lot of flowers except at a flower show before. And there were special maids in uniform caps and aprons to take hats and coats and things. A very young gentleman friend of the family dressed like a cadet shop-walker, acted as usher. The bridesmaids reappeared as sisterlets of Pip’s. There was a roomful of people. “Reception,” said Pip. “Smile at ’em. That’s better. This way.”
Mrs Doober was saying something, then an unknown lady in an autobiographical mood was thrust aside. Then a big fat chap was kissing the bride with remarkable gusto. He disentangled himself and displayed a broad flushed face rather like Pip’s, but stuffed with intercalary matter, and he was white-haired. “And so this is the lucky man, eh?
“Congratulations, my boy. “Con-gratulations. You carry off my family treasure and I congratulate you. Well, s’long as she’s happy....”
He held out a capacious hand.
Edward Albert was at a loss for words. He allowed his hand to be shaken.
“You’re welcome,” said Pop Chaser. “And you’ve got the sunshine on your wedding.”
“I ’ave got that,” said Edward Albert.
“I didn’t come to the church in person,” said Pop Chaser, “but I was there in spirit.”
“Your lovely flowers,” said Evangeline.