Yes, you. The Jinnee made you do it, if you remember, because you declined to live in that palace he built for you in a single night. And you didn't seem to like the idea of having to cross Westminster Bridge on all fours!
Mr. Wackerbath.
[With dignity.] I'm afraid, sir, that when you accepted my invitation just now, you overlooked the fact that you had been dining already.
Pringle.
I haven't dined since last night—in that Arabian hall of Ventimore's, with black slaves to wait, and dancing-girls. Professor, don't pretend you've forgotten those dancing-girls!
[Everybody speechless with indignation and surprise, except the Professor, who comes towards him with concern.
Professor Futvoye.
[Soothingly, to Pringle.] There, there—you mustn't get excited about it. [He turns, and takes Mr. Wackerbath aside.] It's not what you think. Poor fellow! His only excess is overwork. [Turning to Pringle again.] Now, now, Pringle, my dear fellow, you're not—not quite yourself, you know—not quite yourself! Take my advice and go quietly home, and ask your doctor to come and have a look at you.
Pringle.
[Staggered.] So—so you're trying to make out now that—that I'm mad, are you?