Part 14 (1/2)

”If you only knew,” said Horace, ”you wouldn't call it profusion.

It--it's not at all the dinner I meant it to be, and I'm afraid it wasn't particularly nice--but it's certainly not expensive.”

”Expensive is, of course, a very relative term. But I think I have the right to ask whether this is the footing on which you propose to begin your married life?”

It was an extremely awkward question, as the reader will perceive. If Ventimore replied--as he might with truth--that he had no intention whatever of maintaining his wife in luxury such as that, he stood convicted of selfish indulgence as a bachelor; if, on the other hand, he declared that he _did_ propose to maintain his wife in the same fantastic and exaggerated splendour as the present, it would certainly confirm her father's disbelief in his prudence and economy.

And it was that egregious old a.s.s of a Jinnee, as Horace thought, with suppressed rage, who had let him in for all this, and who was now far beyond all remonstrance or reproach!

Before he could bring himself to answer the question, the attendants had noiselessly removed the tray and stool, and were handing round rosewater in a silver ewer and basin, the character of which, luckily or otherwise, turned the Professor's inquisitiveness into a different channel.

”These are not bad--really not bad at all,” he said, inspecting the design. ”Where did you manage to pick them up?”

”I didn't,” said Horace; ”they're provided by the--the person who supplies the dinner.”

”Can you give me his address?” said the Professor, scenting a bargain; ”because really, you know, these things are probably antiques--much too good to be used for business purposes.”

”I'm wrong,” said Horace, lamely; ”these particular things are--are lent by an eccentric Oriental gentleman, as a great favour.”

”Do I know him? Is he a collector of such things?”

”You wouldn't have met him; he--he's lived a very retired life of late.”

”I should very much like to see his collection. If you could give me a letter of introduction----”

”No,” said Horace, in a state of p.r.i.c.kly heat; ”it wouldn't be any use.

His collection is never shown. He--he's a most peculiar man. And just now he's abroad.”

”Ah! pardon me if I've been indiscreet; but I concluded from what you said that this--ah--banquet was furnished by a professional caterer.”

”Oh, the banquet? Yes, _that_ came from the Stores,” said Horace, mendaciously. ”The--the Oriental Cookery Department. They've just started it, you know; so--so I thought I'd give them a trial. But it's not what I call properly organised yet.”

The slaves were now, with low obeisances, inviting them to seat themselves on the divan which lined part of the hall.

”Ha!” said the Professor, as he rose from his cus.h.i.+on, cracking audibly, ”so we're to have our coffee and what not over there, hey?... Well, my boy, I shan't be sorry, I confess, to have something to lean my back against--and a cigar, a mild cigar, will--ah--aid digestion. You _do_ smoke here?”

”Smoke?” said Horace, ”Why, of course! All over the place. Here,” he said, clapping his hands, which brought an obsequious slave instantly to his side; ”just bring coffee and cigars, will you?”

The slave rolled his brandy-ball eyes in obvious perplexity.

”Coffee,” said Horace; ”you must know what coffee is. And cigarettes.

Well, _chibouks_, then--'hubble-bubbles'--if that's what you call them.”

But the slave clearly did not understand, and it suddenly struck Horace that, since 'tobacco and coffee were not introduced, even in the East, till long after the Jinnee's time, he, as the founder of the feast, would naturally be unaware how indispensable they had become at the present day.

”I'm really awfully sorry,” he said; ”but they don't seem to have provided any. I shall speak to the manager about it. And, unfortunately, I don't know where my own cigars are.”

”It's of no consequence,” said the Professor, with the sort of stoicism that minds very much. ”I am a moderate smoker at best, and Turkish coffee, though delicious, is apt to keep me awake. But if you could let me have a look at that bra.s.s bottle you got at poor Collingham's sale, I should be obliged to you.”

Horace had no idea where it was then, nor could he, until the Professor came to the rescue with a few words of Arabic, manage to make the slaves comprehend what he wished them to find.