"Quite," said Nick. "Have you only just come out?"
"No, I've been out some weeks. I came after tiger," said Hunt-Goring, with his eyes on Olga, who had passed on to her host.
"You won't find any in this direction," said Nick. "Wyndham bagged the last survivor on Christmas Day, and a mangy old brute it was."
"I daresay I shall come across other game," said Hunt-Goring, bringing his eyes slowly back to Nick.
Nick laughed. "It's not particularly plentiful here. You'll find it a waste of time hunting in these parts."
"Oh, I have plenty of time at my disposal," smiled Hunt-Goring.
Nick's eyes flickered over him. He also was smiling. "Perseverance deserves to be rewarded," he said.
"And usually is," said Hunt-Goring. He held out his hand to Max. "Ah, Dr. Wyndham, I'm delighted to meet you again. You will be gratified to hear that, thanks to your skilful treatment, my thumb has mended quite satisfactorily."
Max looked at the hand critically; he did not offer to take it. "I am—greatly gratified," he said.
Hunt-Goring withdrew it, still smiling. "May I congratulate you on your engagement," he said.