Pringle.
[Coming towards Horace.] I thought, Ventimore, you came to cheer the Professor up?
Sylvia.
Horace, if you don't summon that odious Jinnee this instant, I shall hate you! I'm beginning to, as it is!
Horace.
[Rising and coming towards her.] My darling, I'd do any mortal thing I could—but I'm helpless! [At this instant Fakrash, in Oriental robe and turban, and a long green cloak, suddenly emerges from the cabinet between the sliding-doors and the door to the hall, and stands scowling and evidently trying to repress both rage and fear. Horace sees him first.] No, I'm not! Hooray! we're saved! He's turned up, after all! [The others retreat towards the fireplace in alarm.] Leave him to me. I know how to manage him. [He approaches Fakrash.] So here you are! If you aren't ashamed of yourself, you jolly well ought to be! A pretty mess you've landed us in this time! Just you get us out of it again!
Fakrash.
[Waving him aside.] No greeting to thee! I have come upon my own affairs.
Horace.
You'll attend to mine first. Undo this infamous spell of yours—do you hear?