conveniences.
That's not unusual with ancient abbeys, is it?
[Solemnly.] Precisely. Well, to come to the point, I've lately acquired some land in the neighbourhood of Surrey and Hampshire, with a view to building a country residence. [Horace becomes more interested, and seats himself at table on Mr. Wackerbath's right.] You see, there's an excellent site – on a hill with a south aspect, just above the village of Lipsfield, and overlooking the valley and river —
[Making a note.] Well, Mr. Wackerbath – ?
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?
Waterloo.
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!
[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?
[With dignity.] Certainly not! It was – ah – entirely my own idea. But why do you ask? [Huffily.] Is an introduction necessary?
[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?
Well, I don't think I could go to more than – say, sixty thousand pounds.
[Half rising in his surprise.] Sixty thousand! [He recollects himself and sits down in assumed calm.] Oh, not more than that? I see.
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.
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?
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?
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.
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.
[At door to landing.] This way, 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.
[To himself.] He's no dream, anyhow! [With exultation.] A client! A real client of my own! At last!
[Enters from landing.] Did you ring for me, sir? – or was it only to let the gentleman out?
[She comes down.
Oh, there is something I had to tell you. We shall be five at dinner, not four. You can manage all right, eh?
[Comfortably.] Lor, yes, sir. That won't make no difference!
[In front of table.] By the way, Mrs. Rapkin, you haven't let your ground-floor yet, have you? To – to an Asiatic gentleman?
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.
[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?
Well, sir, not to deceive you, he ain't back yet from his Public – Libery as he calls it.
Oh, that's what he calls it, eh?
Whatever he's took, sir, you may rely on him to 'and the dishes without 'aving no accidents.
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!
[Crossing to window.] Camuels, sir?
Well, you look and see what you make of them!
[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.
[Relieved.] I say, what a sensible woman you are! Of course! I never thought of that!
[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!
[Uncomfortably.] They're only resting. Come away and don't take any notice. They'll move on presently.
[Still at window.] But they're unpackin' the camuels now! And – well, if they ain't bringing everythink in 'ere!
Great Scott!
They wouldn't be
