Well, as I was saying only a minute or two ago to a friend as we were crossing Westminster Bridge on our way to Waterloo – [He pauses, with an endeavour to recollect.] Where was I?

Horace

Waterloo.

Mr. Wackerbath

Ah, yes. I remarked to him: "All I require is a thoroughly capable architect." [Horace grows alert and excited.] And instantly your name flashed across my mind. So I – ah – hurried off at once, and – here I am!

Horace

[With a sudden misgiving.] May I ask – you – you weren't recommended to me by – by – [he looks round at the door through which Fakrash has vanished] – any one?

Mr. Wackerbath

[With dignity.] Certainly not! It was – ah – entirely my own idea. But why do you ask? [Huffily.] Is an introduction necessary?

Horace

[Relieved.] No, no – not in the least! I – I merely asked. I shall be very pleased to undertake the commission. Could you give me some idea of the amount you thought of spending on the house?

Mr. Wackerbath

Well, I don't think I could go to more than – say, sixty thousand pounds.

Horace

[Half rising in his surprise.] Sixty thousand! [He recollects himself and sits down in assumed calm.] Oh, not more than that? I see.

Mr. Wackerbath

For the house itself. But there'll be the out-buildings – and the decorations. Altogether, I sha'n't complain so long as the total doesn't exceed a hundred thousand. I take it that, for that sum, Mr. Ventimore, you could give me a country-house that I shall have no cause – ah – to feel ashamed of.

Horace

I can safely promise that. And now – when could I run down and have a look at the site, and go into the matter thoroughly?

Mr. Wackerbath

We must fix a day later. I'm rather in a hurry now; and besides, I must consult the wife. Perhaps you could give me an appointment here?

Horace

These are only my private rooms. I shall be at my office in Great College Street to-morrow, if you could look in then. [Giving him card.] Here's the address.

Mr. Wackerbath

Good! [He rises and moves towards window, while Horace rings bell by fireplace.] I'll look in on my way from Waterloo to the City. [He perceives that he is walking out on to a balcony, and turns.] How the devil did I come in? I'll be with you at eleven sharp.

[He goes towards the bedroom door on the right.

Horace

[At door to landing.] This way, Mr. Wackerbath.

Mr. Wackerbath

[Vaguely.] I thought I came that way. [As he goes up.] I can see already that you're the very man for me. [At door to landing.] Now I must be off, or I shall miss my train to Lipsfield. [As Horace offers to see him downstairs.] Don't trouble – I can find my way down. Eleven sharp to-morrow. Good evening.

[As he passes out Horace touches his back, as though half suspecting him to be another illusion. Mr. Wackerbath turns and shakes hands effusively, then goes out, and Horace closes door.

Horace

[To himself.] He's no dream, anyhow! [With exultation.] A client! A real client of my own! At last!

Mrs. Rapkin

[Enters from landing.] Did you ring for me, sir? – or was it only to let the gentleman out?

[She comes down.

Horace

Oh, there is something I had to tell you. We shall be five at dinner, not four. You can manage all right, eh?

Mrs. Rapkin

[Comfortably.] Lor, yes, sir. That won't make no difference!

Horace

[In front of table.] By the way, Mrs. Rapkin, you haven't let your ground-floor yet, have you? To – to an Asiatic gentleman?

Mrs. Rapkin

Me, sir? Let to a Asiatic! No, – nor wouldn't! Why, there was Rapkin's own sister-in-law let her droring-room floor to one. And – [darkly] – reason she 'ad to repent of it – for all his gold spectacles.

Horace

[Relieved.] Ah, I thought you hadn't. [Sits on table.] Well, about the waiting to-night? I suppose I can depend on Rapkin for that, eh? Where is he?

Mrs. Rapkin

Well, sir, not to deceive you, he ain't back yet from his Public – Libery as he calls it.

Horace

Oh, that's what he calls it, eh?

Mrs. Rapkin

Whatever he's took, sir, you may rely on him to 'and the dishes without 'aving no accidents.

[A noise is heard from the street below, which gradually resolves itself into an Oriental chant.

Horace

What's going on outside? [He goes to window, looks out, and then starts back uneasily.] I say. It's – it's devilish odd – but there seems to me to be a whole caravan of camels down there!

Mrs. Rapkin

[Crossing to window.] Camuels, sir?

Horace

Well, you look and see what you make of them!

Mrs. Rapkin

[Looking down over balcony.] Lor! They do look like camuels, sir – or somethink o' that. I expect they belong to the 'Ippodrome, or else a circus.

Horace

[Relieved.] I say, what a sensible woman you are! Of course! I never thought of that!

Mrs. Rapkin

[Still looking out, while the chant finishes with a few shouts, as though a halt were called.] They seem to be stopping outside the 'ouse. Them camuels have folded up, and all the niggers as is with them is a kneelin' down with their noses on the kerbstone!

Horace

[Uncomfortably.] They're only resting. Come away and don't take any notice. They'll move on presently.

Mrs. Rapkin

[Still at window.] But they're unpackin' the camuels now! And – well, if they ain't bringing everythink in 'ere!

[She retreats to behind the table.

Horace

Great Scott!

[He comes down to left of stage.

Mrs. Rapkin

They wouldn't be more things as you've been buying at that auction, sir, would they?

[The chant is heard now inside the house.

Horace

No, no. It's a mistake! It must be a mistake!

Mrs. Rapkin

Then I'd better go and tell them —

[She moves towards door to landing, but before she reaches it, it flies open mysteriously. A moment afterwards a tall, fierce Oriental in turban and robes appears in doorway and salaams. Mrs. Rapkin recoils with a cry. Then a train of black slaves enter, carrying large sacks, bales, and chests, which they deposit on the table and floor, till the room is completely blocked; their chief stands down on right, with his back to the audience, and directs them by gestures.

Horace

Look here! I say, – you fellows! You've come to the wrong house!

[The slaves pay no attention to him.

Mrs. Rapkin

'Ere! my good men, what are you comin' in 'ere for, bringing all your dust into my apartments?

Horace

[Standing paralysed; to himself.] We can't both be dreaming!

Mrs. Rapkin

[Trying to remonstrate with slaves.] This rubbish don't belong 'ere! I can't 'ave the 'ole place littered up with it! You needn't act so ridic'lous if you are niggers! [To Horace.] It ain't no use my talking to 'em, sir. They're not like Christians– they're deaf and dumb, seemingly! You try!

Horace

[Going to the Head Slave, who salaams as he approaches.] Can you understand if I ask a question? [The Head Slave salaams again.] Well, I – I know it seems a silly thing to ask – but – but you don't happen to be sent here by – by anybody with a name something like Fakrash? [The Head Slave implies by a gesture that this is so.] You have!.. Well, look here. I don't want 'em. I decline to take 'em in. You have all these things put on the camels again, and clear out! Do you see what I mean? [By this time the other slaves have gone; the Head Slave signifies in pantomime that the things are Horace's, salaams, and goes out, the door closing behind him mysteriously.] I don't believe that idiot understands now! They've gone off to fetch more!

Mrs. Rapkin

[Who has returned to window.] They've gone off altogether, sir. I can't see nothink now but a cloud of dust.

Horace

[Sinks into chair on right of table with his head buried in his hands.] The fools! The confounded fools!

Mrs. Rapkin

[Comes to table and looks for Horace in vain.] Sir! Sir! [Sees him over the bales, &c.] Sir! Where are you going to 'ave your dinner-party now?

Horace

[Forlornly.] Oh, I don't know – I don't know! Don't worry me now, Mrs. Rapkin! Go away! Can't you see I want to think – I want to think!

Mrs. Rapkin

[As she goes towards door at back.] Well, I must say and I do say that if this 'ad to 'appen, it couldn't have come more ill-convenient! [She goes out.

[As soon as she has gone Horace rises and comes to an antique-looking trunk on left; he opens it, and brings out an enormous emerald and ruby, each the size of a cocoa-nut; he looks at them for a moment in dismay, and drops them back with a groan. Then he crosses to a sack on the right, opens it, and brings out an immense diamond. While he is doing all this, Fakrash has risen from among the bales behind the table, and watches him with benign complacency.

Horace

[As he returns the diamond to the sack.] Oh! damn it all!

Fakrash

My son!

Horace

[Recoiling on sacks.] I'm not dreaming now! I'm awake! And yet – all that story of yours about your being shut up in a brass bottle? I did dream that– eh?

Fakrash

Nay, it is even as I told thee.

Horace

And it was you who sent me all these things?

Fakrash

A few trifling gifts by no means suited to thy dignity! Thou owest me no thanks.

Horace

I – I'd rather not owe you anything. I mean – I can't possibly accept any presents from you.

Fakrash

Nay, they are freely thine.

Horace

I don't want to be ungracious, but I must decline to be under any obligation whatever to a – well, to a perfect stranger like yourself.

Fakrash

Hast thou not placed me under the heaviest of obligations by delivering me from a bottle of brass? To escape out of a bottle is pleasant!

Horace

So I should imagine. But, you see, I'd no notion what I was doing or – well, it's done now, and if you really wish to show your gratitude for a very trifling service, I'll tell you how you can do it. [In a tone of earnest entreaty.] Take back all these gifts of yours, and let me alone!

Fakrash

[Beaming.] Truly I am amazed by thy modesty and magnanimity!

Horace

I'm not magnanimous – I'm devilish annoyed! [Exasperated.] Hang it all! Can't you understand that all these things are no earthly use to me? You might just as well have sent me so many white elephants!

Fakrash

As thou pleasest! To send thee elephants – yea, even in abundance – will be no difficult undertaking.

[He makes a movement as though about to summon them.

Horace

[Aghast.] Good Lord! Don't you go wasting white elephants on me! You take everything so literally! All I meant was that if these things were white elephants, instead of what they are, I couldn't be more embarrassed! Now do you see?

Fakrash

[Coming down to right.] Thou seemest to me to be despising riches beyond all price.

Horace

Exactly! Because they are beyond all price! Look at those sacks – bulging, simply bulging with diamonds and rubies and emeralds as big as ostrich eggs! Well, I can't wear 'em. They'd be too dressy! I can't sell 'em – no one could afford to buy a single one of 'em! And how am I to account for having them at all?

Fakrash

Thou canst surely say that they are presents to thee from Fakrash-el-Aamash, a Jinnee of the Green Jinn, in return for thy kindness in releasing him from a bottle of brass.

Horace

Oh, can I? I fancy I see myself giving that explanation! [More mildly.] No, Fakrash, – you meant well – but the kindest thing you can do is to remove all this at once —

Fakrash

This is a thing that cannot be. For to bestow gifts and receive them back disgraceth the giver.

Horace

Not when the gifts are only in the way. [He nearly trips over a sack.] Just look at this room!

Fakrash

Verily it is but a miserable apartment for a person of thy distinction!

Horace

It's quite good enough for me when it isn't lumbered up like this. I'm expecting friends to dinner this evening, and how the deuce am I to entertain them comfortably unless you make it possible for me?

Fakrash

[Benevolently.] Have no uneasiness. I will see that thou art enabled to entertain thy guests as is fitting.

Horace

Good! [At window.] Then you'll send for that caravan of yours?

Fakrash

I hear and obey.

[He goes towards door at back and waves his hand. The door flies open. The chant is heard as before. A pause, after which the Head Slave enters and salaams. Then the train of black slaves pour in noiselessly, and proceed to carry out the chests, &c., and throw the bales out over the balcony.

Horace

[Encouraging them.] That's right! All those are to go. Put your back into it! [To some slaves who are throwing down bales from the balcony.] Do be careful! You nearly bowled a camel over that time! [The last slave has gone out with a sack from which an immense blue jewel has rolled; Horace picks it up and calls after him.] Hi! You've dropped a little sapphire thing! [The Head Slave takes the sapphire from him and salaams.] Sure you've got the lot? All right! Good day! [The Head Slave makes a final salaam and goes out, the door closing after him mysteriously; Horace approaches Fakrash.] It's awfully nice of you not to be offended, old fellow, and I'm just as much obliged as if I'd kept the things, you know.

Fakrash

It is no matter. Thou shalt receive other rewards more to thy liking.

Horace

[Alarmed.] No, no! I assure you I don't want anything. I can get along quite well by myself. Because – of course, you wouldn't know it, but – [with pride] – I've got a client now!

Fakrash

[Calmly.] I know it. Was he not my first gift unto thee?

Horace

[Staggered.] Your first – ? No, no – don't you go taking credit for that! He assured me himself that he came of his own accord!

Fakrash

He knew no better. Nevertheless it was I that procured him for thee.

Horace

How?

Fakrash

[Airily.] In the easiest manner possible. Having remarked him upon a bridge, I transported him instantly to thy dwelling, impressing him without his knowledge with thy names and thy marvellous abilities.

Horace

[Horrified – to himself.] Good Lord! He said he came in by the window! [To Fakrash.] So you did that, did you? Then you took a confounded liberty! You'd no business to introduce clients to me in that irregular way! Don't you ever do this sort of thing again! Just attend to your own affairs in future. I understood you were going off in search of Suleymán. It's high time you started. You won't find him in this country, you know.

Fakrash

He is on some journey – for in Jerusalem itself could I find no sign of him.

Horace

Oh, come! You can't have flown as far as Jerusalem and back already!

Fakrash

Know'st thou not that, to a Jinnee of the Jinn, distance is but a trifling matter?

Horace

So much the better! You'll be back in the East all the sooner. And when you are there, you stay there. Don't get disheartened if you don't find Suleymán directly. Keep on pegging away till you do! Why, the mere travelling will be a pleasant change for you!

Fakrash

[On right of table; sententiously.] Well and wisely was it written: "In travel there are five advantages. [Proceeding to enumerate them on his fingers.] The first of these is – "

Horace

[Impatiently, as he moves to his bedroom door on right.] I know, I know! Don't you bother to run through them now– I've got to dress for dinner. Just you bundle off to Arabia and search for Suleymán like billy-oh. Good-bye!

Fakrash

May Allah never deprive thy friends of thy presence! Never have I encountered a mortal who has pleased me so greatly!

Horace

[At bedroom door.] Awfully good of you to say so!

Fakrash

Farewell! Prepare to receive a reward beyond all thine expectations!

[He waves his arm, and for ten seconds the room is in utter darkness. There are sounds as of a rushing wind and crashes and rumblings. Then the glimmer of three Arabian hanging lanterns is seen faintly illuminating a large central arch and two smaller side ones. An immense perforated lantern hanging from the domed roof then becomes lit, and reveals an octagonal hall with four curtained arches, the fourth, down on the right, being where Horace's bedroom door had been. The walls are decorated in crimson, blue, and gold arabesques. Above the bedroom door is a low divan with richly embroidered cushions. Opposite to it, on the left, is a similar divan. High in the wall overhead is a window with gilded lattice-work, through which is seen a soft blue evening sky.

Horace

[With his back to the audience.] Great Scott! What's that old idiot let me in for now?

Mrs. Rapkin

[Heard outside the arch up on right of central arch.] Oh, whatever is it now? What's 'appened? [She enters.] Goodness gracious! Mr. Ventimore, sir – what's come to the 'ouse?

Horace

Then —you see a difference, Mrs. Rapkin?

Mrs. Rapkin

I don't see nothink as ain't different. For mercy's sake, sir, 'oo's been alterin' of it like this?

Horace

Well, I haven't.

Mrs. Rapkin

But where are you going to 'ave your dinner-party now, sir?

Horace

Where? Why, here! There's lots of room.

Mrs. Rapkin

But I don't see no dinner-table, nor yet no sideboard.

Horace

Never mind – never mind! Don't make difficulties, Mrs. Rapkin. You must manage somehow.

Mrs. Rapkin

I'll try, sir, but – not to deceive you – I feel that upset I 'ardly know where I am.

Horace

You – you'll get used to it. [Persuasively.] And you're going to see me through this, I'm sure. I must go and dress now. [Looking round the hall.] I suppose you haven't any idea where my bedroom is?

Mrs. Rapkin

I've no idea where any of the rooms has got to, sir!

Horace

[Going to arch down on right.] I expect it's through here.

[As he goes out, Rapkin enters from the arch on left of central arch. He is respectably dressed – type of elderly retired butler; just now he is slightly and solemnly fuddled.

Mrs. Rapkin

William, this is a pretty state o' things!

Rapkin

What's marrer, M'rire? I'm all ri'. On'y bin a-improvin' o' my mind in Public Libery.

Mrs. Rapkin

Public Libery, indeed! You and your Public Libery.

Rapkin

It's pos'tive fac'. Bin p'rusin' En-ensicklypejia Britannia.

[He stands blinking and slightly swaying.

Mrs. Rapkin

But do you mean to say you don't see nothing?

Rapkin

[Muzzily.] Not over distinct, M'rire. Curus opt'cal d'lusion – due to overshtudy – everything's spinnin' round. 'Ave I stepped into Alhambra, or 'ave I not? That's all I want to know.

Horace

[Outside from right.] That you, Rapkin? I want you.

Mrs. Rapkin

[To Rapkin.] You ast 'im where you are – he's better able to tell you than I am. I'm going back to my kitching.

[She hesitates for a moment as to which arch to go out by, and finally goes out by the one on right of central arch.

Horace

[Outside.] Rapkin, I say! [Then entering from the lower arch on right as soon as Mrs. Rapkin has gone; he is wearing a richly embroidered Oriental robe, &c., and a jewelled turban and plume, of which he is entirely unconscious.] Oh, there you are! Don't stand there gaping like a fish at a flower-show! Where the deuce are my evening clothes?

Rapkin

[Staring at him.] I don't know if it's 'nother opt'cal d'lusion – but you appear t' me to ha' gorrem on.

Horace

Eh, what? Nonsense! [Suddenly discovering that he is in a robe and turban.] Hang it! I can't dine in these things! Just see if you can't find – no, there's no time. You haven't changed yet! Look sharp, the people will be here in a minute or two – you must be ready to open the door to them.

Rapkin

[Looking round the hall.] I don't seem to see no doors – on'y arches. I can't open a arch – even if it would stay still.

Horace

Pull yourself together, man! [He twists Rapkin sharply round.] Come, a little cold water on your head will soon bring you round.

Rapkin

I'm comin' round. Don't see s'many arches already!

Mrs. Rapkin

[Rushing in from arch on right of centre arch.] Oh, William, William! Come away at once!

Rapkin

[Peacefully.] I'm aw'ri, M'rire!

Mrs. Rapkin

[Seeing Horace's costume.] Oh, Mr. Ventimore, who's been and dressed you up like that? Why, it's 'ardly Christian! [To Rapkin.] Come away out of this 'orrible 'ouse, do!

Rapkin

What's 'orrible about it?

Mrs. Rapkin

Everything! Can't you see it's all turned into Arabian 'alls?

Rapkin

Is it? [He suddenly becomes indignant.] 'Oo's bin and took sech a liberty?

Mrs. Rapkin

Ah, you may well ask! Oh, Mr. Ventimore. [Crossing to Horace.] You've a deal to answer for, you 'ave!

Rapkin

What? 'Im? 'E's done it all?

Horace

Mrs. Rapkin, don't you lose your head! I depend on you, you know. Get your husband away and make him sober – or the dinner's bound to come to grief!

Mrs. Rapkin

Dinner indeed! And me unable to get into my own kitching for them nasty niggers o' yours as is swarmin' there like beedles! The gell's bolted already, and you and me'll go next, William, for stay under this roof with sech I won't!

[She drags Rapkin by the arm to arch up on right.

Horace

I say, Mr. Rapkin, don't you two desert me now! Just think of the hole I'm in!

Mrs. Rapkin

Bein' a 'ole of your own makin', sir, you can get out of it yourself! Come, William!

Rapkin

I'm comin', M'rire! [As he is dragged through arch by Mrs. Rapkin.] You'll 'ear more o' this, Mr. Ventimore!

Horace

[Alone on stage.] What's to be done now? Can't dine here! [The front door bell rings with a long jangling tingle.] There they are! What am I to do with 'em? It'll have to be the Carlton, after all! [He glances down at his robes.] Can't go like this, though! [He tries to take off his turban.] This damned thing won't come off! [Searching himself for money.] And where are my pockets? [With resigned despair.] Well, I suppose I must let them in, and – and tell 'em how it is!

[As he turns to go up to the centre arch, the hangings are drawn back with a rattle, disclosing a smaller hall behind. A row of sinister-looking but richly robed black slaves forms on each side of the arch; a still more richly dressed Chief Slave salaams to Horace, and with a magnificent gesture ushers in the Professor, Mrs. Futvoye, and Sylvia, to each of whom the double row of slaves salaam obsequiously, to their intense amazement.

Professor Futvoye

[Coming down to the right and looking round him.] Why, why, why? What's all this? Where are we?

Mrs. Futvoye

[Following him closely.] We've evidently mistaken the house!

Sylvia

[Following her mother, and suddenly seeing Horace.] But surely that's – yes, it is Horace!

[At a gesture from their chief, the slaves retire, and he follows.

Horace

[With some constraint, but trying to seem at his ease.] Yes, it's me all right. There's no mistake. Most awfully glad to see you!

Mrs. Futvoye

Dear me! [Coming towards Horace.] I really didn't recognise you for the moment.

Professor Futvoye

[Snappishly.] I don't know who would!

Horace

Oh, ah – you mean in these things. I – I must apologise for not dressing, Mrs. Futvoye, but the fact is, I – I found myself like this, and I hadn't time to put on anything else.

Professor Futvoye

[Crossing to Horace.] Any apologies for the simplicity of your costume are quite unnecessary.

Sylvia

You really are magnificent, Horace! My poor frock is simply nowhere!

Professor Futvoye

[Glaring round.] I observe that this is a very different room from the one we were in this afternoon.

Horace

Ah, I thought you'd notice that! [Deciding on perfect candour.] I – I'd better tell you about that. The – the fact is —

[He starts nervously, as the hangings of the centre arch are drawn back once more, the slaves form a double row, and their chief appears, beckoning to some one to follow him.

Pringle

[Heard outside, addressing Chief Slave.] Mr. Pringle. Mr. Spencer Pringle… Oh, if you can't manage it, it don't matter! [He enters, and stares at the salaaming slaves, then round the hall.] My aunt!

Horace

[Coming forward.] Here you are, eh, old fellow?

[The slaves go out.

Pringle

[Staring after the slaves.] Yes, here I am. [Reproachfully, as he observes Horace's costume.] You might have told me it was a fancy-dress affair.

Horace

It isn't. I – I'll explain presently.

Pringle

[Sees the Futvoyes, and crosses to them.] How do you do again, Miss Sylvia? How are you, Mrs. Futvoye? We meet sooner than we expected, eh? [Turning to the Professor.] Well, Professor, I suppose you weren't surprised at finding our good host in – [he looks round the hall again] – this exceedingly snug little sanctum? I must confess I am.

Professor Futvoye

My dear fellow, you can't be more surprised than we are!

Pringle

[With satisfaction.] You don't mean it! [Turning to Horace, who is on the other side of the hall, talking to Mrs. Futvoye and Sylvia.] Then you've only just got this place finished, eh, Ventimore?

Horace

That's all, Pringle.

Professor Futvoye

To build and decorate such a place as this must have cost a very considerable sum of money.

Horace

You'd think so, wouldn't you? But it didn't.

Professor Futvoye

[Coming towards him.] And that costume you're wearing, those negroes in rich liveries, all this senseless profusion and display we see around us – are you going to tell me they haven't cost you anything?

Horace

I – I was going to explain about that. It's a most extraordinary thing, but – well, you remember that old brass bottle I showed you this afternoon?

Professor Futvoye

Remember it? Of course I remember it! But what of it, sir, what of it?

Horace

Why – er – in a manner of speaking – everything you see here has – er – more or less – come out of that bottle —

Professor Futvoye

[Infuriated.] That is enough, sir, that is enough! You choose to give me a frivolous answer! I will not submit to be treated like this – I would rather leave the house at once. And I will, too!

[He makes a movement towards the arch. Sylvia and her mother look on in distress, and Pringle with secret gratification.

Horace

No, but I haven't finished! You see, it was like this: When I opened the bottle —

Professor Futvoye

[Savagely.] Tchah! As you seem unable to realise that this is not a fit time for fooling, I will not stay here to be trifled with. Sophia, Sylvia, we must find some other place to dine in!

Sylvia

[Going to Horace, and speaking in a rapid undertone.] Horace! Can't you see? He means it. You must be serious – or else – !

Horace

[To her.] Yes, I see… Professor, I'm sorry. I – I never thought you'd be annoyed. All I really meant by – by my feeble little joke was to tell you – in a sort of figurative way, do you see? – that – that my luck has turned at last.

The Others

[Together.] Turned? How turned? What do you mean?

Horace

Well, I've got a client.

The Others

[As before.] A client? How? Where? When?

Horace

Just after you all left this afternoon. A clinking good client, too! He's asked me to build him a big country-house, and my commission can't come to less than seven or eight thousand pounds.

Pringle

[At the end of a general chorus of surprise.] Seven or eight thousand! [Incredulously.] May we know the name of this wonderful client of yours?

Horace

It's a Mr. Samuel Wackerbath, a big City auctioneer, I believe.

Sylvia

Why, he's my godfather!

Mrs. Futvoye

An old friend of ours. Eliza Wackerbath and I were at school together.

Horace

[To Professor.] So you see, sir, I – I'm not so badly off as you thought. I can afford to – to launch out a bit.

Professor Futvoye

[Somewhat mollified.] Hardly, I should have thought, to this extent. However, in the circumstances, I consent to remain.

Sylvia

[In an undertone to Horace.] I thought it was all over with us!

Horace

[In the same to her.] So did I! But I think I'm out of the cart this time.

[He goes up towards the left, talking to her.

Pringle

[Crossing to the Professor; in an undertone.] So glad you decided to stay, Professor. I was really half afraid you'd go – as a protest against all this ostentation.

[Mrs. Futvoye is admiring the workmanship of the hangings.

Professor Futvoye

[In an undertone to Pringle.] I should have done so, Pringle, I should have done so – but for the inconvenience of dining elsewhere at this hour. [Aloud, to Horace.] Ventimore! [Pringle joins Mrs. Futvoye.] I don't know if you are getting hungry, – but I own I am. Will it be long before they announce dinner?

Horace

[Turning, with a start.] Dinner? Oh, I hope not – I mean, I think not.

Professor Futvoye

I see no table is laid here. [Acidly.] But probably you have an equally spacious dining-hall adjoining this?

Horace

Yes. That is, —probably, you know. I mean, it's quite possible.

[The curtains of the arch on left of centre arch are drawn.

Professor Futvoye

Do you mean to tell me you haven't settled yet where we are to dine?

Horace

[At a loss for an instant, then he suddenly sees the slaves enter from the arch on left, bearing a low round table, which they place in the centre of the hall.] Oh, we dine here, of course! – here. I – I leave it to these fellows.

[Four of the slaves fetch cushions and arrange them as seats around the table, the Chief Slave directing them.

Pringle

I say, Ventimore, what an odd idea of yours, having all these black footmen! Don't you find them a nuisance at times?

Horace

Oh, they – they've only come in for the evening. You see – they're – er – quieter than the ordinary hired waiter – and – and they don't blow on the top of your head.

Sylvia

[In an undertone, nervously.] Horace! I don't like them! They're so creepy-crawly, somehow!

Horace

[Suppressing his own antipathy.] After all, darling, we – we mustn't forget that they're men and brothers. [To the others, as the Chief Slave advances to him and makes elaborate gesticulations.] I think what he means is that dinner is served. Shall we sit down?

Mrs. Futvoye

I don't see any chairs.

Horace

No. It – it's such a low table, you see. So we sit on cushions. M – much better fun!

Professor Futvoye

[Grimly.] May I ask if the entire dinner is to be carried out on strictly Arabian principles?

Horace

[Helplessly.] I – I rather think that is the idea. I hope you don't mind, Professor?

Professor Futvoye

I am in your hands, sir, in your hands! Sophia!

[He indicates to Mrs. Futvoye that she is expected to sit down, and seats himself on the right of table with many precautions; Horace leads Mrs. Futvoye to a cushion on his right, and establishes Sylvia on his left, inviting Pringle to the place below Mrs. Futvoye and opposite the Professor. A slave brings on a large covered golden dish, which he places on the table in front of Horace.

Horace

[With a pathetic attempt to be cheery, as another slave raises the cover.] Ha! Now we shall see what they've given us!

[The expressions of the party indicate that, whatever the food may be, its savour is not exactly appetising.

Professor Futvoye

I should just like to remark that, having lived in the East myself and had considerable experience of native cooking, I expect to be extremely unwell to-morrow.

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