She closed her eyes a moment and when she opened them again he had risen and was standing before her. “What do they want him to do?” she asked.
“I’m like Hyacinth; I think I had better not tell you—at least till it’s over.”
“And when will it be over?”
“They give him several days and, I believe, minute instructions—with, however,” Paul went on, “considerable discretion in respect to seizing his chance. The thing’s made remarkably easy for him. All this I know from Schinkel, who himself knew nothing on Sunday, being merely the fellow to see he got the thing, and who saw him in fact yesterday morning.”
“Schinkel trusts you then?” the Princess remarked.
Muniment looked at her steadily. “Yes, but he won’t trust you. Hyacinth’s to receive a card of invitation to a certain big house,” he explained, “a card with the name left in blank, so that he may fill it out himself. It’s to be good for each of two grand parties which are to be given at a few days’ interval. That’s why they give him the job—because at a grand party he’ll look in his place.”
“He’ll like that,” she said musingly—“repaying hospitality with a pistol-shot.”
“If he doesn’t like it he needn’t do it.”
She made no return to this, but in a moment said: “I can easily find out the place you mean—the big house where two parties are to be given at a few days’ interval and where the master—or is it to be the principal guest?—is worth your powder.”
“Easily, no doubt. And do you want to warn him?”