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Chapter XXXIX
THE hall porter had telephoned, under the direction of the concierge, and it was the same motor boat that they had ridden in before.
T5 Jackson was in the boat with the luggage, and the portrait, which had been well and sturdily wrapped. It was still blowing hard.
The Colonel had paid his bill and made the proper tips. The people of the hotel had put the luggage and the picture in the boat, and seen that Jackson was seated properly. Then they had retired.
“Well, daughter,” the Colonel said.
“Can’t I ride with you to the garage?”
“It would be just as bad at the garage.”
“Please let me ride to the garage.”
“All right,” the Colonel said. “It’s your show, really. Get in.”
They did not talk at all, and the wind was a stern wind
