The Durham deception

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The curtain rises and the first reaction of the audience is puzzlement. They have been expecting something eastern, exotic. But there is no painted backdrop depicting snow-capped mountains and plunging ravines. There are no rocks or trees which might conceal apes and serpents. There is nothing at all, in fact, except a tent-like structure surrounded by patterned fabric on three sides and open to the audience on the fourth. In the centre of this space sits a three-legged table not much larger than one which would be used in a card game. The table is bare, without a cloth of any kind.

Then on to the stage strides Major Sebastian Marmont. He is a short man with the soldier’s swagger and a complexion long burnished by foreign suns. He wears a tropical suit and a solar topi. He is greeted by applause. Those who have not yet seen him and his Hindoo troupe are familiar with his reputation and, despite that unpromising card-table, they give him the benefit of the doubt. Major Marmont raises one hand to quieten the audience. He steps towards the footlights.

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