Pringle.
Well, we're not Green Jennies!
Horace.
[Losing his temper.] Shut up, Pringle! This is my story—and you'll be good enough to let me finish it. Well, according to old Fakrash, he'd been sealed up in that bottle by Solomon——
Professor Futvoye.
What, in the name of common sense, has all this to do with the case?
Horace.
I'm coming to that, if you'll only have a little patience. Naturally, he was grateful to me for letting him out, and, in a weak moment, I—I blurted out that you were all coming to dinner here to-night. And what does the old idiot do but transform my rooms into these halls, and provide the whole entertainment himself! And—as might be expected—it was pretty rotten!
[He sinks on the divan on right in despair, as he sees the general incredulity.
Professor Futvoye.