“And may one know what it is?”
“A communication which I should have expected to be made through me has been made through another person.”
“A communication——?”
“To Hyacinth Robinson.”
“To Hyacinth——?” The Princess sprang up; she had turned pale in a moment.
“He has got his billet, but they didn’t send it through me.”
“Do you mean his ‘call’? He was here last night,” the Princess said.
“A fellow, a worker, named Schinkel, a German—whom you don’t know, I think, but who was originally a witness, with me and another, of his undertaking—came to see me this evening. It was through him the call came, and he put Hyacinth up to it on Sunday night.”
“On Sunday night?” The Princess stared. “Why he was here yesterday, and he talked of it and told me nothing.”
“That was quite right of him, bless his pluck!” Muniment returned.