from his burnt hand, that the only humane thing
to do was to drive him to a doctor's--which was exactly what Sir Lionel
did. Rooms were already engaged at the Royal Hotel; he dumped out Emily,
Mrs. Senter, and the luggage there; left Young Nick having his hand
treated; and without so much as crossing the threshold of the hotel,
turned Apollo's bright bonnet toward Tintagel and me. Rain was coming
down in floods. He said nothing about that, but I knew. The storm drew
down twilight like the lid of a box; the road was deep in mud;
everything that could happen to delay the car did happen; once Sir
Lionel had to mend a tire himself, and almost wished he hadn't made
Young Nick disgorge the stolen tool; he ought to have arrived at
Tintagel an hour before he did; but here he was at last. And would I
have a sandwich, and then start, or would I prefer to wait for dinner?

I snatched at the sandwich idea, and his eye brightened. He said he only
_looked_ wet, for everything was waterproof, and he was "right as
rain"--which sounded too appropriate to be comfortable.

We ate as the Israelites of old in Passover days, figuratively with our
staves in our hands; at least, I had a bag in mine, and Sir Lionel a
road book, because he'd lost his way once in his haste, and didn't want
to make further mistakes.

By the time we were ready to start, it was as if Merlin had woven an
enchantment of invisibility, not only over the castle ruins, but over
the whole landscape, which was blotted out behind a white avalanche of
rain. The wind howled, mingling with the boom of the sea; and altogether
it was such a bewitched, Walpurgis world that I tingled with excitement.

Sir Lionel wanted to put me inside the car, but I pleaded that I had
been so lonely and sad all day, I must be close to someone now. This
plea instantly broke down his determination, which had been very
square-chinned and firm till I happened to think of that argument.

He knew my coat to be waterproof, because he chose it himself in London,
and I tied on a perfectly sweet rain-hood, which I'd never needed
before, because this was the only real storm we'd had. It is a crimson
hood, and I knew I was nice in it, from the look of Sir Lionel's eyes.

This was my first night run in the car, and the first time since
starting on the tour that I'd sat on the front seat by his side. Early
as it was, it "made night," and Sir Lionel lit the great lamps.
Instantly it was as if a curtain of d