"At Nineveh they knew him not—for where I left a city I found but a heap of ruins, tenanted by owls and bats."
"They say the lion and the lizard keep the Courts——" murmured Horace, half to himself. "I was afraid you might be disappointed with Nineveh myself. Why not run over to Sheba? You might hear of him there."
"Seba of El-Yemen—the country of Bilkees, the Queen beloved of Suleyman," said the Jinnee. "It is an excellent suggestion, and I will follow it without delay."
"But you won't forget to look in on Professor Futvoye to-morrow, will you?"
"Assuredly I will not. And now, ere I depart, tell me if there be any other service I may render thee."
Horace hesitated. "There is just one," he said, "only I'm afraid you'll be offended if I mention it."
"On the head and the eye be thy commands!" said the Jinnee; "for whatsoever thou desirest shall be accomplished, provided that it lie within my power to perform it."
"Well," said Horace, "if you're sure you don't mind, I'll tell you. You've transformed this house into a wonderful place, more like the Alhambra—I don't mean the one in Leicester Square—than a London lodging-house. But then I am only a lodger here, and the people the house belongs to—excellent people in their way—would very much rather have the house as it was. They have a sort of idea that they won't be able to let these rooms as easily as the others."
"Base and sordid dogs!" said the Jinnee, with contempt.
"Possibly," said Horace, "it's narrow-minded of them—but that's the way they look at it. They've actually left rather than stay here. And it's their house—not mine."