[Suddenly the room is in complete darkness; there is a loud report and a spurt of flame from the bottle. Horace has fallen back on the floor, with the cap of the bottle in his hand. There is just light enough to see a tall weird figure standing with out-stretched arms behind the bottle.
Horace.
[Sitting up and rubbing the back of his head; faintly.] Hullo! Is any one there? Who's that come in?
The Stranger.
[In an attitude of supplication.] Towbah! Yah nebbi Ullah! Anna lah amill Kathahlik ibadan! Wullah-hi!
Horace.
I daresay you're perfectly right, sir—but I've no idea what you're talking about.
The Stranger.
[Repeating the Arabic sentence.] Towbah! (&c. &c.) Wullah-hi!
Horace.