Lugaash was Lugaash. That is, the city WAS the country... mostly. There were a few outlying villages noted for fishing and a few crops, but they weren't any place anyone wanted to be unless you had to.

There were a few bars, pubs, taverns and restaurants in Lugaash, including the Pink Palace, an upscale club and gambling hall that catered mostly to the rich... well, the would-be rich. It wasn't a place to visit unless you could afford to part with a hundred quid or so even if you didn't gamble.

No, the tavern of choice for most foreigners was the Elephant In The Cellar. It had character, albeit a strange character. It borrowed from the English design in that the 'ground floor' was the first one you stepped up into, while the 1st floor was the floor above that. What would, in the future, be built as a half-basement was a full basement but only sunk halfway into the ground. Thus, you had a half-flight of stairs going up to the ground floor and a half-flight of stairs going down to the cellar.

It was down in the cellar of a greystone that the tavern was situated. Technically, it was a pub, as it served food as well as drink, but the terms were getting already getting blurred as the new century fast approached.

The decor was a bit Arabian, a lot Indian (tassles and silk batique), and some new technological designs, such as brightly colored steam pipes, shiny brass knobs and fittings, and functionless gears.

And there was the elephant. There really was an elephant in the cellar. It was dead and stuffed, of course, but there it was. Large as life. Larger! The typical topic of conversation was everybody speculating on it was gotten into the basement.


So Charles X. A. Harris was having a spot of tea here because he had no intention of spending 2 pounds for it at the Pink Palace!

After making a few enquiries, Paul Smith learned that the only place in town that catered to the foreign taste of coffee was the Elephant In The Cellar.

Charles sat in a comfortable arm chair that was no doubt imported from England just for this pub. A cup of fine Nilgiri tea sat on a saucer on a nearby table.  He had pick up the taste for it while stationed in India.  A top hat and gloves also sat on the table. A polished walking cane leaned against the chair by his left leg.

He was reading old issue of the Times.  No doubt sent to Suez via the submerged cable and printed there.  It still took a day or so to make it to Lugaash.  He had heard that some folk at the Pink Palace would be setting up a printing press here as they could not abide by the delay of several hours.

Yes. I was just throwing this in to get you started. I'm pretty sure the game will still be here when you get back.

Paul makes his way to the bar hinting out the smell of coffee. It was a delightful smell at that too. He was wondering when he would taste the likes of grinded coffee beans and cold milk. The fragrance seeped into his nose when he stepped up to the counter. Paul spotted another foreigner in the bar, not very usual at this time in the morning as he could see, maybe they were all asleep... He saw only a man, seemed to be of a high status in an armchair a few feet away. Paul approached the man with coffee in hand to start a conversation.
"Hello, sir. What brings someone like yourself to Lugaash?" says Paul while taking a sip of his drink."I myself am here to see if they had any Indian mechanical parts. I've heard they're quite well made, but expensive as well."

Charles looks up at the American then stands and folds his paper.  He offers a slight bow while securing his cane with his right hand.  Charles Harris at your service.  The accent is, without a doubt, British.

You should try Faud's shop near the Rug Seller's bazaar.  I understand he can get some very interesting parts at times. 

The tone is moderated.  Not cold but more cautious as he sizes up Mr. Smith.