Of course she was there.  Where else would she be if the man himself were in his lair?  She'd been waiting for the call, had anticipated which agents he'd ask her to retrieve, had spent the evening locating the whereabouts of the half-dozen most likely.  She'd gotten most of them right.<br/><br/>So he was correct that she was already carrying out his orders, even as he gave them.   Moneypenny was more than a pretty face.  A naval officer herself, a picture of efficiency wrapped in a female of indeterminate age, she prided herself on being two steps ahead.  To that end, she acknowledged M's request with a curt<strong>"Yes, sir,"</strong>seconds before she sent out the message, coded of course, to the four agents he requested, to each in the most efficient manner given his or her location:<br/><strong><br/>"Uncle Arthur would like the pleasure of your company at dinner tonight.  Formal attire, drinks in an hour." </strong>They'd all know what it meant, and, no matter what they were doing, they'd know that this was an order, not a request.