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"Will you tell Dorothy that I have helped you translate cipher telegrams and write the replies?" Peter was rather astonished, but said, "Yes." But he did it very badly, Leonore thought, for meeting Dorothy the next day at a lawn party, after the mere greetings, he said: "Dorothy, Miss D'Alloi has been helping me translate and write cipher telegrams."
Then he called at a steamship office. After that he spent twenty minutes with the head of one of the large schools for boys in the city. Then he returned to his office. "A Mr. D'Alloi is waiting for you in your private office, sir," he was told. "He said that he was an old friend and insisted on going in there." Peter passed into his office. Watts cried: "My dear boy, how can I ever "
D'Alloi turned to place her puppets properly again. But she found a decided bar to her intentions. Peter had formed his own conclusions as to why he had been set to entertain Madame Mellerie, not merely from the fact itself, but from the manner in which it had been done, and most of all, from the way Mrs.
"My darling," cried the mother, "what is the matter?" "It can't be," cried Leonore. "Mamma! Papa! Say it isn't so?" "What, my darling?" said Peter, supporting the swaying figure. "This," said Leonore, huskily, holding out the newspaper. Mrs. D'Alloi snatched it. One glance she gave it. "Oh, my poor darling!" she cried. "I ought not to have allowed it. Peter! Peter!
"I hope you won't ask any of these people to luncheon," Peter said in an aside to Mrs. D'Alloi. "Why?" he was asked. Peter looked puzzled, and finally said weakly, "I I have a good deal to do." And then as proper punishment for his misdemeanor, the footman announced Dorothy and Miss Biddle, Ray and Ogden.
"See what a great blot I've made on your clean blotter," said Leonore, who had rested the pen-point there. "I'm very sorry." Then she wrote on the blotter, "Leonore D'Alloi. Her very untidy mark." "That was what Madame Mellerie always made me write on my exercises." Then they said "Good-bye." "I like down-town New York better and better," said Leonore. So did Peter.
"Let me see. What shall I call you?" she asked of Peter. "Honey," laughed Watts. "What shall I call you?" Miss D'Alloi put her head on one side, and looked at Peter out of the corners of her eyes. "You must decide that, Miss D'Alloi." "I suppose I must. I think I shall call you Peter." She spoke hesitatingly till she said his name, but that went very smoothly.
"Oh, Captain Moriarty," said Leonore, "won't you let me see him? I'm Miss D'Alloi." "Shure," said Dennis, "yez oughtn't to be afther disturbin' him. It's two nights he's had no sleep." Leonore suddenly put her hand on Dennis's arm. "He's not killed?" she whispered, as if she could not breathe, and the figure swayed a little. "Divil a bit! They got it wrong entirely.
"He's different," she said. "He isn't a bit afraid of displeasing me any more. I don't know what to do with him." Peter found Jenifer waiting. "Only pack the grip," he said. "I hope to come back in a few days." But he looked very glum, and the glumness stuck to him even after he had dressed and had descended to dinner. "I am leaving my traps," he told Mrs. D'Alloi.
"I wish I had known that," said Peter, with the sincerest regret in his voice. Miss D'Alloi's interest in legal literature suddenly ceased. She turned and Peter had a momentary glimpse of those wonderful eyes. Either his words or tone had evidently pleased Miss D'Alloi. The corners of her mouth were curving upwards. She made a deep courtesy to him and said: "You will be glad to know, Mr.
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