ree_ or no _entree_, of
joint and bird. "What's in season just now?" said Horace; "let me
see"--and glanced out of the window as he spoke, as though in search of
some outside suggestion.... "Camels, by Jove!" he suddenly exclaimed.

"_Camels_, Mr. Ventimore, sir?" repeated Mrs. Rapkin, in some
bewilderment; and then, remembering that he was given to untimely
flippancy, she gave a tolerant little cough.

"I'll be shot if they _aren't_ camels!" said Horace. "What do _you_ make
of 'em, Mrs. Rapkin?"

Out of the faint mist which hung over the farther end of the square
advanced a procession of tall, dust-coloured animals, with long,
delicately poised necks and a mincing gait. Even Mrs. Rapkin could not
succeed in making anything of them except camels.

"What the deuce does a caravan of camels want in Vincent Square?" said
Horace, with a sudden qualm for which he could not account.

"Most likely they belong to the Barnum Show, sir," suggested his
landlady. "I did hear they were coming to Olympia again this year."

"Why, of course," cried Horace, intensely relieved. "It's on their way
from the Docks--at least, it isn't _out_ of their way. Or probably the
main road's up for repairs. That's it--they'll turn off to the left at
the corner. See, they've got Arab drivers with them. Wonderful how the
fellows manage them."

"It seems to me, sir," said Mrs. Rapkin, "that they're coming _our_
way--they seem to be stopping outside."

"Don't talk such infernal---- I beg your pardon, Mrs. Rapkin; but why
on earth should Barnum and Bailey's camels come out of their way to call
on _me_? It's ridiculous, you know!" said Horace, irritably.

"Ridicklous it _may_ be, sir," she retorted, "but they're all layin'
down on the road opposite our door, as you can see--and them niggers is
making signs to you to come out and speak to 'em."

It was true enough. One by one the camels, which were apparently of the
purest breed, folded themselves up in a row like campstools at a sign
from their attendants, who were now making profound salaams towards the
window where Ventimore was standing.

"I suppose I'd better go down and see what they want," he said, with
rather a sickly smile. "They may have lost the way to Olympia.... I only
hope Fakrash isn't at the bottom of this," he thought, as he went
downstairs. "But he'd come himself--at all events, he wouldn't send me a
message on such a lot of camels!" As he appeared on the doorstep, all
the drive