[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.