For perhaps an hour the hansoms kept arriving with such frequency, that
Mr. Morris had to receive a new guest for every old one that he sent
away, and the company preserved its number undiminished. But towards
the end of that time the arrivals grew few and far between, and at
length ceased entirely, while the process of elimination was continued
with unimpaired activity. The drawing-room began to look empty: the
baccarat was discontinued for lack of a banker; more than one person
said good-night of his own accord, and was suffered to depart without
expostulation; and in the meanwhile Mr. Morris redoubled in agreeable
attentions to those who stayed behind. He went from group to group and
from person to person with looks of the readiest sympathy and the most
pertinent and pleasing talk; he was not so much like a host as like a
hostess, and there was a feminine coquetry and condescension in his
manner which charmed the hearts of all.
As the guests grew thinner, Lieutenant Rich strolled for a moment out
of the drawing-room into the hall in quest of fresher air. But he had
no sooner passed the threshold of the ante-chamber than he was brought
to a dead halt by a discovery of the most surprising nature. The
flowering shrubs had disappeared from the staircase; three large
furniture waggons stood before the garden gate; the servants were busy
dismantling the house upon all sides; and some of them had already
donned their great-coats and were preparing to depart. It was like the
end of a country ball, where everything has been supplied by contract.
Brackenbury had indeed some matter for reflection. First, the guests,
who were no real guests after all, had been dismissed; and now the
servants, who could hardly be genuine servants, were actively
dispersing.
‘“Was the whole establishment a sham?” he asked himself. “The mushroom
of a single night which should disappear before morning?”
Watching a favourable opportunity, Brackenbury dashed upstairs to the
highest regions of the house. It was as he had expected. He ran from
room to room, and saw not a stick of furniture nor so much as a picture
on the walls. Although the house had been painted and papered, it was
not only uninhabited at present, but plainly had never been inhabited
at all. The young officer remembered with astonishment its specious,
settled, and hospitable air on his arrival. It was only at a prodigious
cost that the imposture could have been carried out upon so great a
scale.
Who, then, was Mr. Morris? What was his intention in thus playing the
householder for a single night in the remote west of London? And why
did he collect his visitors at hazard from the streets?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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