"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 prickly 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 cushion, 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?"