Oh, I say, Isidore.
Blond, a fat, middle-aged French hotel-keeper, enters with a letter in his hand.
Isidore.
Monsieur Blond.
Blond.
Good evening, Mr. Farringdon.
Isidore.
[Quietly to Blond.] Ze bill is all right.
Cis.
Good evening. [Introducing Mr. Posket.] My friend, Mr. Harvey Skinner, of the Stock Exchange.