"No, thank you," she said, sharply. "I have hallucinations on mountain tops."
The Marques thought this was very funny. But not too unusual, he hastened to add. "For example," he said, "once when I was on a skiing week-end in Austria, three members of our party saw an apparition." He chattered amiably about the experiences on that and other skiing trips, directing his words solely to Jerry. Hall ignored them both. He was still staring at the mirror, and, after catching the chauffeur's eyes for the second time, he knew definitely that the man at the wheel was the little dog who had trailed him to the Ritz and then driven off after Ansaldo's limousine with Androtten as his passenger.
It was only when the car was less than a block from the Bolivar that Hall spoke again. "It's too bad," he said, his eyes trying to focus both on the mirror and on de Runa, "it's too bad about the Phoenix Garage blowing up today."
The chauffeur and the Marques started.
"But—why?" the Marques asked.
"Oh, I don't know. It's just that an officer in the British Embassy was telling me just the other day that the Phoenix Garage was one of the most fascinating establishments in San Hermano. I was planning to visit the garage myself tomorrow. I'm interested in garages, you know."
The chauffeur stopped the car in front of the Bolivar with an abrupt slamming of his brakes.
Hall laughed. "Your chauffeur was daydreaming, I think."
The Marques laughed, or tried to laugh, as if Hall had just made one of the funniest remarks ever heard in San Hermano. "That's what he is," the Marques laughed, "a man who dreams by day. Very good, Señor Hall. Excellent."
Hall got out of the car, helped Jerry to the street. "Thank you again for picking us up," he said. "And do something about your driver before he starts driving into people in his sleep."