"You are very kind," Hunterleys murmured.
His face seemed set in graven lines. For all the effect the other's words had upon him, he might have been wearing a mask.
"The law here in some respects is very curious," Draconmeyer continued. "Some of the statutes have been unaltered for a thousand years. I have been given to understand by a person who knows, that if this man should die, notwithstanding the circumstances of the case, you might find yourself in an exceedingly awkward position. If I might venture, therefore, to give you a word of disinterested advice, I would suggest that you return to England at once, if only for a week or so."
His eyes had narrowed. Through his spectacles he was watching intently for the effect of his words. Hunterleys, however, only nodded thoughtfully, as though to some extent impressed by the advice he had received.
"Very likely you are right," he admitted. "I will discuss the matter with my wife."
"She is playing over there," Draconmeyer pointed out. "And while we are talking in a more or less friendly fashion," he went on earnestly, "might I give you just one more word of counsel? For the sake of the friendship which exists between our wives, I feel sure you will believe that I am disinterested."
He paused. Hunterleys' expression was now one of polite interest. He waited, however, for the other to continue.
"I wish that you could persuade Lady Hunterleys to play for somewhat lower stakes."
Hunterleys was genuinely startled for a moment.
"Do you mean that my wife is gambling beyond her means?" he asked.