"Faith, thin," said he, "it's Mr. Frinch will have a most agrayable surprise. 'Moriarty,' says he to me, 'take the car and meet the lady that's comin' by the ha'f-pas' five thrain. You can't mistake her,' he says, 'for she's an ouldish lady in spicticles.'"
Miss Grimshaw laughed. "Well," she said, "it was Mr. French's mistake. Let us find the car. I suppose you are going to drive me?"
"It's fifteen miles to Drumgool, miss," said Moriarty. "Mr. Frinch tould me to say you were to be sure and have some tay at the hotel here afther your journey; it's only across the road."
"Thanks," said Miss Grimshaw.
She followed Moriarty and the porter to the station gate. An outside car, varnished, silver-plated as to fittings, and very up to date stood near the wicket. A big roan mare with a temper was in the shafts, and a barefooted gossoon was holding on to the bridle.
The station inn across the road flung its creaking sign to the wind from the moors, seeming to beckon, and Miss Grimshaw came.
The front door was open, and a dirty child was playing in the passage. Miss Grimshaw passed the child, knocked at a door on the left of the passage, and, receiving no answer, opened it, to find a bar-room, smelling vilely of bad tobacco and spirits. She closed the door and opened one on the right of the passage, to find a stuffy sitting room with a stuffed dog under a glass case for its presiding genius.
Two clocks stood on the mantelpiece, one pointing to three, the other to twelve, neither of them going; a sofa covered with American cloth, chairs to match, a picture of the Day of Judgment, some dusty seashells, and a drugget carpet completed the furniture of the place. Miss Grimshaw was looking around her for a bell when the following dialogue between Moriarty and some female unknown struck her ears.
"Mrs. Sheelan," came Moriarty's voice, evidently from the backyard.
"What do you want?" came the reply, evidently from an upper room.