Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 44, No. 7 & 8, July/August 1999

Clara hadn’t capitulated. Her feet solidly back on the ground after her one mad surge of unbridled passion, Clara was becoming more worried daily. And it wasn’t entirely concern for her own welfare. She genuinely loved Bunny, and she was willing to bet that Tony Gregory was “a love ’em and leave ’em gigolo, out for nothing but money,” who had broken many a woman’s heart. Clara was terribly afraid that another heart would soon be broken.

It was a quiet wedding, performed by a justice of the peace in Grant County, the county to the east of Ashford County. With his wife as a witness, a scratchy 78 rpm record playing a wedding march, the justice pronounced them man and wife as Tony slipped the wedding ring on Bunny’s quivering finger. He had bought the ring two days before at a going-out-of-business jewelry store in the mall, paid a hundred fifty dollars for it. (“It’s marked down from four hundred,” said the elderly jeweler, tears in his eyes.) And after handing the astonished justice of the peace a hundred dollar bill (twenty-five was the usual stipend; now and then someone paid fifty), high-flyer Tony was down to exactly seven hundred fifty dollars and the jeweled watch. He hadn’t been that poor in twenty years.

The justice’s wife was the Grant County correspondent for the Hillsdale Morning Clarion. She interviewed the newlyweds, Bunny happily answering every question with such enthusiasm that Tony had to interrupt frequently.

“Now, Bunny,” he kept saying, “Let’s not go overboard.”

“You see,” she said, squeezing his arm, “He’s so modest, not like many of today’s brazen international entrepreneurs.”

Of course Bunny would have preferred an elaborate wedding at St. Mark’s in Hillsdale, but Tony — he was getting far too much publicity — thought it might be inappropriate in view of his great-aunt’s recent death. Dear Bunny, adrift in paradise, bought that ludicrous story without a moment’s hesitation.

“I understand, darling,” she had said. “But how many men would be so considerate of an aged distant relative? Oh, darling, I’m finding more and more admirable qualities about you every day.”

At which Tony, beginning to feel like a heel (this latest conquest was getting to him) mumbled that a fellow had to do what a fellow had to do. He had reason to feel like a heel; his great-aunt, alias Pittsburgh Will, had died, been cremated the day Tony met Bunny on the plane.

A slight delay in the honeymoon (“Would Spain be all right, Bunny?”... “Oh... oh... yes... yes... anywhere, darling.”), the Singapore negotiations reaching the crucial stage. Would Bunny mind waiting a few weeks?

Mind? Of course she wouldn’t mind, whatever darling Tony wished was wonderful with her. Hmm, thought Tony, this is gonna be easier than I thought. I’ll give it ten days — no longer — before I hit her for the money. Come to think of it, I’ll need an extra twenty grand. That shouldn’t bother her. She’s loaded.

The newlyweds arrived back at the mansion around five that afternoon, Tony bringing his clothes in two expensive looking but somewhat battered pieces of luggage. Clara, a nervous wreck (“I’m tellin’ you, Midnight, she’s gone gaga over that fortune hunter”), opened the door, fearing the worst. It came.

“Congratulate me, Clara,” Bunny squealed, waving her hand. “See, a wedding ring. I’m a bride. Tony and I were married this afternoon in Grant County. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Then she grabbed Clara, hugged her tightly, exclaiming, “Oh, I’m so happy, Clara. Tony’s made me the happiest person on earth.”

While that was going on, Tony made a valiant effort not to look like the cat that had swallowed the canary, but he failed. He awaited the housekeeper’s reaction, pretty sure what it would be, for though he had charmed the two maids he was well aware that the housekeeper and the cat had him figured out.

Clara responded as anticipated. She managed to squirm free from Bunny’s embrace, skewer Tony with a look of part outrage, part pure hate. So what, he thought, I’m in the driver’s seat. I’ll be out of here in a couple of weeks at the most.

Home now, Bunny began having qualms over sharing the bed that she and Harold had shared for so many years. Sly old Tony, sensing her uneasiness, suggested they spend the first night of the honeymoon at The Lookout.

“Oh, darling,” said Bunny eagerly, “that’s a splendid suggestion. It’s so lovely in the mountains. Oh, darling, you’re so, so thoughtful.”

Wow, thought Tony, whatever I say is great with her. I may not wait two weeks, even ten days. I’ve been through hell these nine months.

Midnight had a tough night. Stretched full-length in his clean wicker basket on the floor beside Clara’s bed, he was forced to respond to her unrelenting jeremiad against that “no good, two-bit, fortune hunting Casanova,” a recurring theme being Tony’s lack of evidence that he was what Bunny claimed him to be.