"Oh yes, I believe I am, if there is time. Pettingham is a little lengthy to-night."
"Terribly!"
She listened for a moment.
"Dear! Fatimah is still evidently under the influence of haschish. This is endless!"
She agitated her enormous fan in the darkness. All around might now be heard a rustling as of wings. The Dowagers, half suffocated, were doing likewise. Mr. Pettingham sipped at a glass of water, and calmly continued:
"When the Duke said this to Fatimah, the Prince and I were convulsed. I got down off my donkey——"
"This is wonderfully interesting," Chloe murmured to Mrs. Verulam eighteen rows back.
Mrs. Verulam, who was lost in a reverie, through which James Bush moved with all the dignity of her idea of Agag, started and replied:
"D'you think so? I think it appalling! Even the Holy Land must have been better than this. If he takes us into the interior, I shall faint."
"I shall now proceed to show you some views of the interior," continued Mr. Pettingham, with a quacking complacency. "First try to imagine yourselves in one of the filthy alleys of the Jewish quarter of Tetuan." He struck the bell again. "Here you see one of the filthy alleys faithfully reproduced."