"But Cornwall's an adept," said Loomis. "That's beyond question."

"If that's the case, then he's not registered in Great Britain," Ginny said.

Loomis grimaced tightly. "I knew there was something about that guy that bothered me," he said. "Paul,

you said he was staying with you?"

"Yes, that's right," said Paul, feeling helpless.

Loomis pursed his lips. "I think we'd better take a run over to your house and have a word with him," he

said. "Ginny, you want to come along?"

She grinned. "Try and stop me."

Loomis did a double take when Broom answered the door before Paul could open it. What he saw

before him was a long brown pole with a clump of straw bristles attached to one end. It looked like the

sort of broom a cartoon witch could be expected to ride, only it had spindly arms ending in hands with

rubbery fingers. It also had a red nightcap perched atop its pole.

"What the hell isthis? " Loomis asked, taken aback.

"You're asking me?" Broom said. "Three o'clock in the morning and you come barging up the front walk,

making enough noise to wake up all the neighbors, and you're askingme what the hell is this?"

"It's a new animation spell I tried out," said Paul, improvising. "Joe, Ginny, this is Broom. Broom, this is

Lt. Joe Loomis, of the Santa Fe Police, and Ginny Fairchild. She's a reporter." He hoped Broom would

take the hint and not blow the whole thing.

"The police?" said Broom. "What, is something wrong? What's the matter, you're in trouble? You get

caught driving drunk? What?"

Ginny giggled. "I think it's wonderful, Professor!" she said. "Where can I get one?"

"He keeps coming home with company at three o'clock in the morning and you're liable to get one

sooner than you think," said Broom. "I suppose you want me to make coffee now?"