[_Springing up indignantly, and crossing to fireplace._] I won't hear any more! You're trying to make me doubt Horace again--but you can't! you _can't_! I _know_ he'd never send a magician to hurt father! [_As HORACE enters from the hall, looking pale and wild._] Ah! Horace, you needn't tell me! _You_ at least have no share in what has happened!
[_Going to her and taking both her hands._] Darling! For Heaven's sake tell me what _has_ happened?
[_Triumphantly._] You hear, Mr. Pringle? He doesn't even know! _Now_ will you dare to repeat what you were saying--to his face?
If you insist. I've been saying, Ventimore, that I believe _you_ to have inspired this abominable transformation of the Professor.
It's true, then? He--he really _is_ a mule?
[_Disengaging herself, with a sudden doubt._] Horace, tell me--_did_ you send any one to father!
[_Sinking into chair by sofa._] Heaven forgive me! I did.
[_Recoiling from him with aversion._] To transform him into a mule?
[_She goes to a chair below fireplace, and seats herself in despair._
[_Rising and going towards her._] No, no! I wanted old Fakrash to convince him that he really _had_ been in the bottle--but not like _this_! I thought I could trust him to do _that_! [_Bitterly._] But I might have known!
So you still stick to that story about the Jinnee?
I--I admit that it doesn't seem so incredible as it did. But, if true, there's all the less excuse for you. Because you can make this Jinnee, or whatever he is, do anything you tell him. You can't deny that--I've seen you _do_ it, you know!
I can manage him right enough when he's _there_--it's when I haven't got my eye on him that he makes all these mistakes.
But _why_ should he change poor father into a one-eyed mule? It's so utterly unreasonable!
I'm afraid the Professor alarmed him by threatening to send for a constable. However, darling--and this is what I'm here to tell you--it won't last long. _I'll_ take care that your father will soon be restored.
[_Rising, overjoyed._] You _will_? Oh, I _must_ tell them! [_Rushing to the sliding-doors and slightly opening them._] Mother, mother! I've news--_good_ news!
[_Looking cautiously through the opening._] What is it, Sylvia? [_Sees HORACE with displeasure._] Mr. Ventimore! _You_ here! [_Stamping heard from study. MRS. FUTVOYE turns and speaks over her shoulder._] Keep back, Anthony! Keep back! Remember--you're not fit to be seen, as you _are_!