I knew I was coming round—you'll be gone directly.
Fakrash.
Aye, for I must seek out Suleymán—[salaaming]—on whom be peace!—and obtain pardon from him.
[He waves his arm, and the door at back flies open.
Horace.
[Eagerly.] Yes—I would! You go and do that! Make haste! [The door closes, leaving Fakrash visible through it in an unearthly light.] Good-bye—and good luck!
Fakrash.
[Through door.] To thee also! And be assured that I will not be unmindful of thy welfare!
[The door becomes solid as Fakrash vanishes.