One evening, long after most people had gone to bed, a friend and I were making our way merrily back home through the silent and almost deserted streets. We had been to a musical show and were talking about the actor we had seen and heard in it.

“That show made him a star overnight,” said my friend about one of the actors. “He was completely unknown before, and now thousands of teenagers send him chocolates and love letters through the mail.”

“I thought he was quite good,” I said, “but not worth thousands of love letters daily. As a matter of fact, one of his songs gave me a pain.”

“Which was that?” my friend asked. “Sing to me.” I burst into a parody of the song.

“Be quiet for heaven’s sake!” My friend gave me an astonished look.

“You’ll give everybody a fright and wake people up for miles around.”

“Never mind,” I said, intoxicated with the sound of my own voice. “I don’t care. Why does it matter?”

And I went on singing the latest tunes at the top of my voice. Suddenly, there came behind us the sound of heavy footsteps and before you could say “Jack Robinson” a policeman was standing in front of me, his notebook open, and a determined look on his face.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said. “You have a remarkable voice, if I may say so. Who taught you to sing? I’d very much like to find someone who can give my daughter singing lessons. Would you be kind enough to tell me your name and address? Then my wife or I can drop you a line and discuss the matter.”

How many characters are there in the above passage?