"Why do you do that?"
"Perhaps I want to bring about an enchantment,"—soberly.
"As Signor Fantoccini, or as Mr. Comstalk?"
"I have long since resigned my position in the museum; it was too exciting."
She made no rejoinder; and for some time there was no sound but the music of the bells.
Finally we drew up under the colonial portè-cochere of Hollywood Inn and were welcomed by the genial Moriarty himself, his Celtic countenance a mirror of smiles.
"Anything in the house to eat?" I cried, shaking the robes from me.
"Anything ye like, if you like cowld things. I can hate ye a pot of coffee on the gasolene-burner, and there's manny a vintage in the cillars."
"That will be plenty!"—joyfully, helping Miss Hawthorne to alight.
"Sure, and ye are from the Hunt Club!"—noting our costumes. "Well, well! They niver have anny too much grub. Now, I'll putt ye in a little room all be yersilves, with a windy and a log-fire; cozy as ye plaze. Ye'll have nearly two hours to wait for the car-r from the village."