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“Don’t fret,” said the voice under the dark Hood. “I got one last Studebaker prime A-1 vehicle, or maybe two, waiting back in Gurney. Someone drop me there?”
“Me!” said everyone.
“So that’s the way you function,” said Grandpa. “That’s why you’re here.”
It was later in the evening with more mosquitoes and fewer knitters and smokers. Another Studebaker, bright red, stood out at the curb. “Wait till they see the sun shine on this one,” said Mr. Mysterious, laughing gently.
“I have a feeling you’ll sell your entire line this week,” said Grandpa, “and leave us wanting.”
“I’d rather not talk futures and sound uppity, but so it seems.”
“Sly fox.” Grandpa tamped philosophy in his pipe and puffed it out. “Wearing that sack over your head to focus need and provoke talk.”
“It’s more than that.” Mr. M. sucked, tucking a cigarette through the dark material over his mouth. “More than a trick. More than a come-on. More than a passing fancy.”
“What?” said Grandpa.
“What?” I said.
It was midnight and I couldn’t sleep.
Neither could Mr. Mysterious. I crept downstairs and found him in the backyard in a wooden summer recliner perhaps studying the fireflies and beyond them the stars, some holding still, others not.
“Hello, Quint!” he said.
“Mr. Mysterious?” I said.
“Ask me.”
“You wear that Hood even when you sleep?”
“All night long every night.”
“For most of your life?”
“Almost most.”
“Last night you said it’s more than a trick, showing off. What else?”
“If I didn’t tell the roomers and your grandpa, why should I tell you, Quint?” said the Hood with no features resting there in the night.
“ ‘Cause I want to know.”
“That’s about the best reason in the world. Sit down, Quint. Aren’t the fireflies nice?”
I sat on the wet grass. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” said Mr. Mysterious, and turned his head under his Hood as if he were staring at me. “Here goes. Ever wonder what’s under this Hood, Quint? Ever have the itch to yank it off and see?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“That lady in The Phantom of the Opera did. Look where it got her.”
“Then shall I tell you what’s hidden, son?”
“Only if you want to, sir.”
