"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 drivers flopped down and rubbed their flat, black noses on the curbstone. "For Heaven's sake get up!" said Horace angrily. "This isn't Hammersmith. Turn to the left, into the Vauxhall Bridge Road, and ask a policeman the nearest way to Olympia." "Be not angry with thy slaves!" said the head driver, in excellent English. "We are here by command of Fakrash-el-Aamash, our lord, whom we are bound to obey. And we have brought thee these as gifts." "My compliments to your master," said Horace, between his teeth, "and tell him that a London architect has no sort of occasion for camels. Say that I am extremely obliged--but am compelled to decline them." "O highly born one," explained the driver, "the camels are not a gift--but the loads which are upon the camels. Suffer us, therefore, since we dare not disobey our lord's commands, to carry these trifling tokens of his good will into thy dwelling and depart in peace." Horace had not noticed till then that every camel bore a heavy burden, which the attendants were now unloading. "Oh, if you _must_!" he said, not too graciously; "only do look sharp about it--there's a crowd collecting already, and I don't want to have a constable here." He returned to his rooms, where he found Mrs. Rapkin paralysed with amazement. "It's--it's all right," he said; "I'd forgotten--it's only a few Oriental things from the place where that brass bottle came from, you know. They've left them here--on approval." "Seems funny their sending their goods 'ome on camels, sir, doesn't it?" said Mrs. Rapkin.