“I ate a dinner,” said Peter smiling.
“Now don’t be like Mr. Pell,” said Leonore, reprovingly, “or I’ll take back what I just said.”
“Did you roar, and did the tiger put its tail between its legs?” asked Watts.
“That is the last thing our friends, the enemies, have found,” said Peter.
“You will tell me about it, won’t you, Peter?” said Leonore, ingratiatingly.
“Have you a mount for me, Watts, for to-morrow? Mutineer comes by boat to-night, but won’t be here till noon.”
“Yes. I’ve one chap up to your weight, I think.”
“I don’t like dodgers,” said Leonore, the corners of her mouth drawn down.
“I was not dodging,” said Peter. “I only was asking a preliminary question. If you will get up, before breakfast, and ride with me, I will tell you everything that actually occurred at that dinner. You will be the only person, I think, who wasn’t there, who knows.” It was shameful and open bribery, but bosses are shameful and open in their doings, so Peter was only living up to his rôle.
The temptation was too strong to be resisted, Leonore said, “Of coarse I will,” and the corners of her mouth reversed their position. But she said to herself: “I shall have to snub you in something else to make up for it.” Peter was in for a bad quarter of an hour somewhere.