"Enter, O Master," said Mustapha, leading the way inside, "thou and thy woman with thee."
"Woman, indeed!" muttered Mrs. Davies in outraged tones as she followed them. "Woman!! A black...."
"My dear," urged the vicar in an earnest undertone. "It's probably only the Eastern way. I do not suppose he means any disrespect."
"I hope not, indeed.... Good Heavens!"
The newly decorated hall had burst suddenly on Mrs. Davies' vision, and her injured pride was forgotten in her amazement at the sight. The vicar, who could only discern a blaze of color, gazed too. Mustapha moved majestically across the hall and disappeared up the marble staircase.
"Julian," demanded Mrs. Davies, "are we dreaming? What has happened?"
The vicar, who had now managed to focus his myopic eyes, glanced at the wall opposite the front door, and gave a wail of anguish and horror.
"The tapestry!" he cried. "The great tapestry. They've taken it down. How could they?"
He went over to the wall where once the tapestry had been and gazed forlornly at it as though he hoped by some occult power of thought concentration to bring it back.