That's one for you, Miss Marryat. Mary, hunt about. We must find the square that belongs to this."
But, though they turned everything upside-down, they could find no square with Roman and Arabic numerals.
"Hang it all!" said Peter, "it must be made to fit one of these others. Look! I know what he's done. He's just taken a fifteen-letter square, and numbered it with Roman figures one way and Arabic the other. I bet it fits into that one it was pinned up with."
But the one it was pinned up with turned out to have only thirteen squares.
"Dash it all," said his lordship, "we'll have to carry the whole lot down, and work away at it till we find the one it does fit."
He snatched up a great bundle of newspapers, and led the way out. The others followed, each with an armful. The search had taken some time, and the atrium was in semi-darkness.
"Where shall I take them?" asked Lord Peter, calling back over his shoulder.
"Hi!" cried Mary; and, "Look where you're going!" cried her friend.
They were too late. A splash and a flounder proclaimed that Lord Peter had walked, like Johnny Head-in-Air over the edge of the impluvium, papers and all.
"You ass!" said Mary.