Draconmeyer shrugged his shoulders.
"How can I tell that? I don't know what her means are, or yours. I only know that she changes mille notes more often than I change louis, and it seems to me that her luck is invariably bad. I think, perhaps, just a word or two from you, who have the right to speak, might be of service."
"I am very much obliged to you for the hint," Hunterleys said smoothly. "I will certainly mention the matter to her."
"And if I don't see you again," Draconmeyer concluded, watching him closely, "good-bye!"
Hunterleys did not appear to notice the tentative movement of the other's hand. He was already on his way to the spot where his wife was sitting. Draconmeyer watched his progress with inscrutable face. Selingman, who had been sitting near, rose and joined him.
"Will he go?" he whispered. "Will our friend take this very reasonable hint and depart?"
Draconmeyer's eyes were still fixed upon Hunterleys' slim, self-possessed figure. His forehead was contorted into a frown. Somehow or other, he felt that during their brief interview he had failed to score; he had felt a subtle, underlying note of contempt in Hunterleys' manner, in his whole attitude.
"I do not know," he replied grimly. "I only hope that if he stays, we shall find the means to make him regret it!"