“That will not trouble you,” Mr. Shinner smiled easily.

“But somebody did—­the agents did.”

“Perhaps not so much as you think, madam, if I may say so.  Perhaps not so much as you think.  And we must all live—­unfortunately.  Has your husband made any arrangements yet for London or for a provincial tour?  I have reason to think that the season will be particularly brilliant.  And I can now offer advantages——­”

“But, Mr. Shinner, when I last saw you, and it isn’t so very long ago, you told me that my husband was not a concert-player, which was exactly what I had heard in Paris.”

“I didn’t go quite so far as that, surely, did I?” Mr. Shinner softly insinuated.  He might have been pouring honey from his mouth.  “Surely I didn’t say quite that?  And perhaps I had been too much influenced by Paris.”

“Yes, you said he wasn’t a concert-player and never would be——­”

“Don’t rub it in, madam,” said Mr. Shinner merrily. “Peccavi.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing, nothing, madam,” he disclaimed.

“And you said there were far too many violinists on the market, and that it was useless for a French player to offer himself to the London musical public.  And I don’t know what you didn’t say.”

“But I didn’t know then that your husband would have such a success in Germany.”

“What difference does that make?”

“Madam,” said Mr. Shinner, “it makes every difference.”

“But England and Germany hate each other.  At least they despise each other.  And what’s more, nearly everybody in Germany was talking about going to war this summer.  I was told they are all ready to invade England after they have taken Paris and Calais.  We heard it everywhere.”

“I don’t know anything about any war,” said Mr. Shinner with tranquillity.  “But I do know that the London musical public depends absolutely on Germany.  The only first-class instrumentalist that England has ever produced had no success here until he went to Germany and Germanised his name and himself and announced that he despised England.  Then he came back, and he has caused a furore ever since.  So far as regards London, a success in Karlsruhe, Wiesbaden, Leipzig, Dusseldorf, and so on, is worth far more than a success in the Queen’s Hall.  Indeed—­can you get a success in the Queen’s Hall without a success in these places first?  I doubt it.  Your husband now has London at his feet.  Not Paris, though he may capture Paris after he has captured London.  But London certainly.  He cannot find a better agent than myself.  All artists like me, because I understand.  You see, my mother was harpist to the late Queen.”

“But——­”

“Your husband is assuredly a genius, madam!” Mr. Shinner stood up in his enthusiasm, and banged his left fist with his right palm.

“Yes, I know that,” said Audrey.  “But you are such an expensive luxury.”