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Mr. Wackerbath
[Panting.] You must give me a little time – till I – ah – get my wind again.
Horace
Certainly. I know the stairs here are rather steep.
Mr. Wackerbath
Are they? I don't remember noticing them. However! My name, Mr. Ventimore, is Wackerbath – Samuel Wackerbath, of Wackerbath and Greatrex, a firm of auctioneers and estate agents whose name may – ah – possibly be not unfamiliar to you.
Horace
[Who has obviously never heard it before.] Oh, of course – of course.
Mr. Wackerbath
I may tell you that for the last few years I have rented an old place – Moatham Abbey they call it – in Surrey, which is not quite as up-to-date as I could wish in the matter of modern conveniences.
Horace
That's not unusual with ancient abbeys, is it?
Mr. Wackerbath
[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 —
Horace
[Making a note.] Well, Mr. Wackerbath – ?
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?
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!
