“Yes.”
“Oh, lovely! Let me see. Mamma and papa, of course.”
“That’s four. Now you can have two more.”
“Peter. Would you mind—I mean——” Leonore hesitated a moment and then said in an apologetic tone—“Would you like to invite madame? I’ve been telling her about your rooms—and you—and I think it would please her so.”
“That makes five,” said Peter.
“Oh, goody!” said Leonore, “I mean,” she said, correcting herself, “that that is very kind of you.”
“And now the sixth?”
“That must be a man of course,” said Leonore, wrinkling up her forehead in the intensity of puzzlement. “And I know so few men.” She looked out into space, and Peter had a moment’s fear lest she should see the marquis, and name him. “There’s one friend of yours I’m very anxious to meet. I wonder if you would be willing to ask him?”
“Who is that?”
“Mr. Moriarty.”