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Just in time, wasn't it?" asked Mary Arkroyd. "Two days before the-the ceremony! Mercifully it had all been kept very quiet, because it was only three months since poor Gilly was killed. I forget whether you ever met Gilly? My half-brother, you know?" "Only once-in Collingham Gardens. He had an exeat, and dashed in one Saturday morning when we were just finishing our work. Don't you remember?" "Yes, I think I do. But since my engagement I'd gone into colours-oh, of course, I've gone back into mourning now!-and everything was ready-settlements and so on, you know. And rooms taken at Bournemouth. And then it all came out!" "How?" "Well, Eustace-Captain Cranster, I mean--Oh, I think he really must have had shell-shock, as he said, even though the doctor seemed to doubt it! He gave the Colonel as a reference in some shop, and-and the bank wouldn't pay the cheque. Other cheques turned up too; and in the end the police went through his papers, and found letters from-well, from her, you know. From Bogota. South America, isn't it? He'd lived there ten years, you know, growing something-beans, or coffee, or coffee-beans, or something-I don't know what. He tried to say the marriage wasn't binding, but the Colonel-wasn't it providential that the Colonel was home on leave? Mamma could never have grappled with it! The Colonel was sure it was, and so were the lawyers." "What happened then?