The Phantom Luncheon

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　

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"The Smithly-Dubbs are in Town," said Sir James. "I wish you would showthem some attention. Ask them to lunch with you at the Ritz orsomewhere." "From the little I've seen of the Smithly-Dubbs I don't thing I want tocultivate their acquaintance," said Lady Drakmanton. "They always work for us at election times," said her husband; "I don'tsuppose they influence very many votes, but they have an uncle who is onone of my ward committees, and another uncle speaks sometimes at some ofour less important meetings. Those sort of people expect some return inthe shape of hospitality." "Expect it!" exclaimed Lady Drakmanton; "the Misses Smithly-Dubb do morethan that; they almost demand it. They belong to my club, and hang aboutthe lobby just about lunch-time, all three of them, with their tongueshanging out of their mouths and the six-course look in their eyes. If Iwere to breathe the word 'lunch' they would hustle me into a taxi andscream 'Ritz' or 'Dieudonne's' to the driver before I knew what washappening." "All the same, I think you ought to ask them to a meal of some sort,"persisted Sir James. "I consider that showing hospitality to the Smithly-Dubbs is carryingFree Food principles to a regrettable extreme," said Lady Drakmanton;"I've entertained the Joneses and the Browns and the Snapheimers and theLubrikoffs, and heaps of others whose names I forget, but I don't see whyI should inflict the society of the Misses Smithly-Dubb on myself for asolid hour. Imagine it, sixty minutes, more or less, of unrelentinggobble and gabble. Why can't _you_ take them on, Milly?" she asked,turning hopefully to her sister. "I don't know them," said Milly hastily. "All the better; you can pass yourself off as me. People say that we areso alike that they can hardly tell us apart, and I've only spoken tothese tiresome young women about twice in my life, at committee-rooms,and bowed to them in the club. Any of the club page-boys will point themout to you; they're always to be found lolling about the hall just beforelunch-time." "My dear Betty, don't be absurd," protested Milly; "I've got some peoplelunching with me at the Carlton to-morrow, and I'm leaving Town the dayafterwards." "What time is your lunch to-morrow?" asked Lady Drakmanton reflectively. "Two o'clock," said Milly. "Good," said her sister; "the Smithly-Dubbs shall lunch with meto-morrow. It shall be rather an amusing lunch-party. At least, I shallbe amused." The last two remarks she made to herself. Other people did not alwaysappreciate her ideas of humour. Sir James never did. The next day Lady Drakmanton made some marked variations in her usualtoilet effects. She dressed her hair in an unaccustomed manner, and puton a hat that added to the transformation of her appearance. When shehad made one or two minor alterations she was sufficiently unlike herusual smart self to produce some hesitation in the greeting which theMisses Smithly-Dubb bestowed on her in the club-lobby. She responded,however, with a readiness which set their doubts at rest. "What is the Carlton like for lunching in?" she asked breezily. The restaurant received an enthusiastic recommendation from the threesisters. "Let's go and lunch there, shall we?" she suggested, and in a fewminutes' time the Smithly-Dubb mind was contemplating at close quarters ahappy vista of baked meats and approved vintage. "Are you going to start with caviare? I am," confided Lady Drakmanton,and the Smithly-Dubbs started with caviare. The subsequent dishes werechosen in the same ambitious spirit, and by the time they had arrived atthe wild duck course it was beginning to be a rather expensive lunch. The conversation hardly kept pace with the brilliancy of the menu.Repeated references on the part of the guests to the local politicalconditions and prospects in Sir James's constituency were met with vague"ahs" and "indeeds" from Lady Drakmanton, who might have been expected tobe specially interested. "I think when the Insurance Act is a little better understood it willlose some of its present unpopularity," hazarded Cecilia Smithly-Dubb. "Will it? I dare say. I'm afraid politics don't interest me very much,"said Lady Drakmanton. The three Miss Smithly-Dubbs put down their cups of Turkish coffee andstared. Then they broke into protesting giggles. "Of course, you're joking," they said. "Not me," was the disconcerting answer; "I can't make head or tail ofthese bothering old politics. Never could, and never want to. I'vequite enough to do to manage my own affairs, and that's a fact." "But," exclaimed Amanda Smithly-Dubb, with a squeal of bewildermentbreaking into her voice, "I was told you spoke so informingly about theInsurance Act at one of our social evenings." It was Lady Drakmanton who stared now. "Do you know," she said, with ascared look around her, "rather a dreadful thing is happening. I'msuffering from a complete loss of memory. I can't even think who I am. Iremember meeting you somewhere, and I remember you asking me to come andlunch with you here, and that I accepted your kind invitation. Beyondthat my mind is a positive blank." The scared look was transferred with intensified poignancy to the facesof her companions. "_You_ asked _us_ to lunch," they exclaimed hurriedly. That seemed amore immediately important point to clear up than the question ofidentity. "Oh, no," said the vanishing hostess, "_that_ I do remember about. Youinsisted on my coming here because the feeding was so good, and I mustsay it comes up to all you said about it. A very nice lunch it's been.What I'm worrying about is who on earth am I? I haven't the faintestnotion?" "You are Lady Drakmanton," exclaimed the three sisters in chorus. "Now, don't make fun of me," she replied, crossly, "I happen to know herquite well by sight, and she isn't a bit like me. And it's an odd thingyou should have mentioned her, for it so happens she's just come into theroom. That lady in black, with the yellow plume in her hat, there overby the door." The Smithly-Dubbs looked in the indicated direction, and the uneasinessin their eyes deepened into horror. In outward appearance the lady whohad just entered the room certainly came rather nearer to theirrecollection of their Member's wife than the individual who was sittingat table with them. "Who _are_ you, then, if that is Lady Drakmanton?" they asked in panic-stricken bewilderment. "That is just what I don't know," was the answer; "and you don't seem toknow much better than I do." "You came up to us in the club--" "In what club?" "The New Didactic, in Calais Street." "The New Didactic!" exclaimed Lady Drakmanton with an air of returningillumination; "thank you so much. Of course, I remember now who I am.I'm Ellen Niggle, of the Ladies' Brasspolishing Guild. The Club employsme to come now and then and see to the polishing of the brass fittings.That's how I came to know Lady Drakmanton by sight; she's very often inthe Club. And you are the ladies who so kindly asked me out to lunch.Funny how it should all have slipped my memory, all of a sudden. Theunaccustomed good food and wine must have been too much for me; for themoment I really couldn't call to mind who I was. Good gracious," shebroke off suddenly, "it's ten past two; I should be at a polishing job inWhitehall. I must scuttle off like a giddy rabbit. Thanking you everso." She left the room with a scuttle sufficiently suggestive of the animalshe had mentioned, but the giddiness was all on the side of herinvoluntary hostesses. The restaurant seemed to be spinning round them;and the bill when it appeared did nothing to restore their composure.They were as nearly in tears as it is permissible to be during theluncheon hour in a really good restaurant. Financially speaking, theywere well able to afford the luxury of an elaborate lunch, but theirideas on the subject of entertaining differed very sharply, according tothe circumstances of whether they were dispensing or receivinghospitality. To have fed themselves liberally at their own expense was,perhaps, an extravagance to be deplored, but, at any rate, they had hadsomething for their money; to have drawn an unknown and sociallyunremunerative Ellen Niggle into the net of their hospitality was acatastrophe that they could not contemplate with any degree of calmness. The Smithly-Dubbs never quite recovered from their unnerving experience.They have given up politics and taken to doing good.

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