[As he finds the metal cap in the last vase.] I've got it! [Going to Fakrash, and presenting it.] Allow me, sir.
[Fakrash snatches it eagerly. Pringle goes up to The Mule and reassures it, Mrs. Futvoye accompanying him.
Fakrash.
[Gloating over the cap.] It is indeed my stopper! Now shall I be secure from disturbance!
Horace.
[Going to Fakrash, seizing his arm, and drawing him to the right; then, in an undertone.] Pitch into me afterwards if you like—but listen now. You must keep your side of the bargain!
Fakrash.
[Coldly.] What I have promised I perform.
Horace.
[Relieved.] Ah, I knew you were a good old sort—at bottom. And—I say—do make them understand that I've had nothing to do with all this.