Into the mean habitation in which I found thee? Far be this action from me!
Horace.
[Impatiently.] Oh, I'm sick of arguing with you—I command you. On the head and on the eye!
Rapkin's Voice.
[From the outer hall.] Mr. Ventimore! I want a word with you!
Horace.
[To Fakrash, quickly.] You hear? That's my landlord,—it's his house, not mine. Just you change it—quick—before he comes in!
Fakrash.
[Standing in centre.] Since thou insisteth. And be of light heart, for by to-morrow all thine affairs will prosper exceedingly!
[He waves his hand; there is a sudden and complete darkness for a few seconds, with the sounds of rumbling and rushing wind as before. Above this the Rapkins' voices are heard.