Prudence and William had left an inflated indiarubber sea-serpent behind them in the bathroom. Sir Samson sat in the warm water engrossed with it. He switched it down the water and caught it in his toes; he made waves for it; he blew it along; he sat on it and let it shoot up suddenly to the surface between his thighs; he squeezed some of the air out of it and made bubbles. Chance treats of this kind made or marred the happiness of the Envoy’s day. Soon he was rapt in daydream about the Pleistocene age, where among mists and vast, unpeopled crags, schools of deep-sea monsters splashed and sported; oh, happy fifth day of creation, thought the Envoy Extraordinary, oh, radiant infant sun, newly weaned from the breasts of darkness, oh, rich steam of the soggy continents, oh, jolly whales and sea-serpents frisking in new brine… Knocks at the door. William’s voice outside.
“Walker’s just ridden over, sir. Can you see him?”
Crude disillusionment.
Sir Samson returned abruptly to the twentieth century, to a stale and crowded world; to a bath grown tepid and an indiarubber toy. “Walker? Never heard of him.”
“Yes, sir, you know him. The American secretary.”
“Oh, yes, to be sure. Extraordinary time to call. What on earth does the fellow want? If he tries to borrow the tennis marker again, tell him it’s broken.”
“He’s just got information about the war. Apparently there’s been a decisive battle at last.’
“Oh, well, I’m glad to hear that. Which side won, do you know?”
“He did tell me, but I’ve forgotten.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll hear all about it from him. Tell him I’ll be down directly. Give him a putter and let him play clock golf. And you’d better let them know he’ll be staying to luncheon.”
Half an hour later Sir Samson came downstairs and greeted Mr. Walker.
“My dear fellow, how good of you to come. I couldn’t get out before; the morning is always lather busy here. I hope they’ve been looking after you properly. I think it’s about time for a cocktail, William.”
‘ The Minister thought that you’d like to have news of the battle. We got it on the wireless from Matodi. We tried to ring you up yesterday evening but couldn’t get through.”
“No, I always have the telephone disconnected after dinner. Must keep some part of the day for oneself, you know.”
“Of course we haven’t got any full details yet.”
“Of course not. Still the war’s over, William tells me, and I, for one, am glad. It’s been on too long. Very upsetting to everything. Let me see, which of them won it?”
“Seth.”
“Ah, yes, to be sure. Seth. I’m very glad. He was… now let me see… which was he?”
“He’s the old Empress’s son.”
“Yes, yes, now I’ve got him. And the Empress, what’s become of her.”
“She died last year.”
“I’m glad. It’s very disagreeable for an old lady of her age to get involved in all these disturbances. And What’s-his-name, you know the chap she was married to? He dead, too?”
“Seyid? There’s no news of him. I think we may take it that we’ve seen the last of him.”
“Pity. Nice fellow. Always liked him. By the bye, hadn’t one of the fellows been to school in England?”
“Yes, that’s Seth.”
“Is it, by Jove? Then he speaks English?”
“Perfectly.”
“That’ll be one in the eye for Ballon, after all the trouble he took to learn Sakuyu. Here’s William with the cocktails.”
“I’m afraid they won’t be up to much this morning, sir. We’ve run out of Peach Brandy.”
“Well, never mind. It won’t be long now before we get everything straight again. You must tell us all your news at luncheon. I hear Mrs. Schonbaum’s mare is in foal. I’ll be interested to see how she does. We’ve never had any luck breeding. I don’t believe the native syces understand bloodstock.”
At the French Legation, also, news of Seth’s victory had arrived. “Ah,” said M. Ballon, “so the Eng lish and the Italians have triumphed. But the game is not over yet. Old Ballon is not outwitted yet.
There is a trick or two still to be won. Sir Samson must look to his laurels.”
While at that moment the Envoy was saying: “Of course, it’s all a question of the altitude. I’ve not heard of any one growing asparagus up here but I can’t see why it shouldn’t do. We get the most delicious green peas.”
THREE
TWO days later news of the battle of Ukaka was published in Europe. It made very little impression on the million or so Londoners who glanced down the columns of their papers that evening.
“Any news in the paper to-night, dear?”
“No, dear, nothing of interest.”
“Azania? That’s part of Africa, ain’t it?”
“Ask Lil, she was at school last.”
