“Ah when you come to the way Rosy knows——!” He gave that up. “She doesn’t like people in such a box at all. She thinks we ought all to be grandly born.”
“Then they agree, for so does poor Hyacinth.” The Princess had a pause, after which, as with a deep effort: “I want to ask you something. Have you had a visit from Mr. Vetch?”
“The old gentleman who fiddles? No, he has never done me that honour.”
“It was because I prevented him then. I told him to leave it to me.”
“To leave what now?” And Paul looked out in placid perplexity.
“He’s in great distress about Hyacinth—about the danger he runs. You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I know what you mean,” Muniment answered slowly. “But where does he come in? I thought it was supposed to be a grand secret.”
“So it is. He doesn’t know anything; he only suspects.”
“How do you know then?”
She had another wait. “Oh I’m like Rosy—I find out. Mr. Vetch, as I suppose you’re aware, has been near Hyacinth all his life; he takes a most affectionate interest in him. He believes there’s something hanging over him and wants it to be made impossible.” She paused afresh, but her visitor made no response and she continued: “He was going to see you, to beg you to do something, to interfere; he seemed to suppose your power in such a matter would be very great. But as I tell you, I requested him—a particular favour to me—to let you alone.”