[_Happily._] It doesn't matter, mother. They _both_ know. And Horace is going to make father all right again.
[_She pushes the sofa aside and comes through, leaving the sliding-doors open, and pulling the curtains back, but replacing the sofa._
Mrs. Futvoye, I've something to say which I think will cheer the Professor up a bit.
Unless you can say how and when my husband may expect to see an end of all this----
The Jinnee I let out of that brass bottle. I told you all about him last night. You didn't believe me _then_.
None of us did. But I'm afraid, Mrs. Futvoye, we've got to believe now.
[_To HORACE._] Then--are _you_ responsible for this?
Indirectly. Only indirectly. I couldn't prevent Fakrash making an ass of himself.
You might have prevented his making a mule of my husband!
[_Another plunge and crash of glass from behind._
I wasn't consulted! But I will say _this_ for old Fakrash--nobody's readier to repair a blunder when once it's pointed out to him. He'll do anything for _me_.
Then send for him and _insist_ on his repairing what he's done here.
[_Eagerly, down on right._] Yes, yes. Send for him, Horace, _send_ for him!
[_Heavily._] I'm afraid it wouldn't be any use.
Nonsense! You could make him come if you _chose_!
I tell you I can't. I don't even know where he is--or if he hasn't gone off to Arabia again----
Off to Arabia! [_Going towards him._] And when--_when_ is he likely to be _back_?
[_Suddenly._] Oh! [_He collapses into the chair above the fireplace._] I--I've only just remembered. He told me he was going to _settle down_ there!
And is my husband to remain a mule for the rest of his life?
[_In a choked voice._] Don't ask me, Mrs. Futvoye--don't _ask_ me!
[_Coming towards HORACE._] I _thought_, Ventimore, you came to cheer the Professor up?
Horace, if you don't summon that odious Jinnee this instant, I shall _hate_ you! I'm _beginning_ to, as it is!
[_Rising and coming towards her._] My darling, I'd do any mortal thing I could--but I'm helpless! [_At this instant FAKRASH, in Oriental robe and turban, and a long green cloak, suddenly emerges from the cabinet between the sliding-doors and the door to the hall, and stands scowling and evidently trying to repress both rage and fear. HORACE sees him first._] No, I'm not! Hooray! we're saved! He's turned up, after all! [_The others retreat towards the fireplace in alarm._] Leave him to _me_. _I_ know how to manage him. [_He approaches FAKRASH._] So here you are! If you aren't ashamed of yourself, you jolly well _ought_ to be! A pretty mess you've landed us in this time! Just you get us _out_ of it again!