"The credit! This is England, not Arabia. What credit can I gain from being supposed to be the architect of an Oriental pavilion, which might be all very well for Haroun-al-Raschid, but I can assure you is preposterous as a home for an average Briton?"
"Yet that overfed hound," remarked the Jinnee, "expressed much gratification therewith."
"Naturally, after he had found that he could not give a candid opinion except on all-fours. A valuable testimonial, that! And how do you suppose I can take his money? No, Mr. Fakrash, if I have to go on all-fours myself for it, I must say, and I will say, that you've made a most frightful muddle of it!"
"Acquaint me with thy wishes," said Fakrash, a little abashed, "for thou knowest that I can refuse thee naught."
"Then," said Horace, boldly, "couldn't you remove that palace—dissipate it into space or something?"
"Verily," said the Jinnee, in an aggravated tone, "to do good acts unto such as thee is but wasted time, for thou givest me no peace till they are undone!"
"This is the last time," urged Horace; "I promise never to ask you for anything again."
"Not for the first time hast thou made such a promise," said Fakrash. "And save for the magnitude of thy service unto me, I would not hearken to this caprice of thine, nor wilt thou find me so indulgent on another occasion. But for this once"—and he muttered some words and made a sweeping gesture with his right hand—"thy desire is granted unto thee. Of the palace and all that is therein there remaineth no trace!"
"Another surprise for poor old Wackerbath," thought Horace, "but a pleasant one this time. My dear Mr. Fakrash," he said aloud, "I really can't say how grateful I am to you. And now—I hate bothering you like this, but if you could manage to look in on Professor Futvoye——"
"What!" cried the Jinnee, "yet another request? Already!"