"Is Ottilie here?" he asked, lazily.
"She has just gone out," returned Osmond. "I'll wish you good-bye, Orton; my train goes in half-an-hour."
"Your train? Where the deuce are you off to?"
"England. I have played long enough. I am going back to work."
Frederick stuck his hands in his pockets and whistled.
"Oho! I see daylight. Mr. and Mrs. Percivale are in the hotel," he drawled. "Pooh! what does that matter? Stay and cut him out. Easily done. He's too virtuous to keep any woman's affection for long."
Osmond laughed bitterly.
"Which means that I am not?"
Orton laughed too.
"Look at Ottilie, she is hand and glove with them; sharp girl!" he said. "Thinks they are rich enough to be useful acquaintances, I suppose. Bury the hatchet, old man, and get the happy bridegroom to give you a commission."