The Duke in the Suburbs by Edgar Wallace — Read

The room was crowded, there was a hum of talk, a scraping of chairs, a high nervous laugh or so, and in some adjoining room the clatter of coffee cups. The Rev. Arthur had arranged the hall on a new plan, he said, and everybody agreed that it was an excellent plan. At one end of the room was a draped platform; on the floor, in place of the phalanx of benches, were scattered little tables with seats for four. It was a unique arrangement, some went so far as to defy the grammarian and say it was "most unique," but as a matter of fact neither the enthusiast nor the vulgarian were correct, for the Rev. Arthur -- a most excellent Christian, overflowing with worldly wisdom -- had modelled his arrangements after those obtaining at the wicked _Cafe Chantant_. Tea and coffee were to be served between the items, and a pleasurable evening seemed assured.

Without in any way desiring to anticipate the events of the night, I will go so far as to say, that the soiree might have been an unqualified success had "No 4" on the programme been "No. 15" -- which would have been the last. "No. 4," by the new arrangement, was: