“I saw them myself—an hour, two hours, ago. Listen, listen; I’ll be very clear,” said the Prince, laying his forefinger on the other hand with a pleading emphasis. “He came to that house—this one, where we’ve been, I mean—and stayed there a long time. I was here in the street—I’ve passed my day in the street! They came out together and I watched them—I followed them.” Hyacinth had listened with wonder and even with suspense; the Prince’s manner gave an air of such importance and such mystery to what he had to relate. But at this he broke out: “This’s not my business—I can’t hear it! _I_ don’t watch, _I_ don’t follow.” His friend stared in surprise, but then rejoined, more quickly than he had spoken yet: “Do you understand that they went to a house where they conspire, where they prepare horrible acts? How can you like that?” “How do you know it, sir?” Hyacinth gravely asked. “It’s Madame Grandoni who has told me.” “Why then do you question me?” “Because I’m not sure, I don’t think she knows. I want to know more, to be sure of what’s the truth. Does she go to such a place only for the revolution, or does she go to be alone with him?” “With _him_?” The Prince’s tone and his excited eyes had somehow made the suggestion live. “With the tall man—the chemist. They got into a hansom together; the house is far away, in the lost quarters.” Hyacinth drew himself together. “I know nothing about the matter and I don’t care. If that’s all you wish to ask me we had better separate.” The Prince’s high face grew long; it seemed to grow paler. “Then it’s not true that you hate those abominations!” Hyacinth frankly wondered. “How can you know about my opinions? How can they interest you?” The Prince looked at him with sick eyes; he raised his arms a certain distance and then let them drop at his sides. “I hoped you’d help me.”