Читать книгу: «The Brass Bottle: A Farcical Fantastic Play in Four Acts», страница 4
Fakrash
Ha! And on what spot is this mansion to be erected?
Horace
Oh, he seems to have got an excellent site – on a hill near Lipsfield, between Hampshire and Surrey.
Fakrash
[Touching his own brow.] It is on the tablet! And have no anxiety, – for the palace that will arise shall assuredly be the wonder of the universe!
Horace
Very kind of you to say so – when I haven't even begun to work at it yet. And now – about these halls? [Persuasively.] You will turn 'em back into my old rooms, won't you? You're such a deuced clever old Johnny – I mean, Jinnee!
Fakrash
Into the mean habitation in which I found thee? Far be this action from me!
Horace
[Impatiently.] Oh, I'm sick of arguing with you – I command you. On the head and on the eye!
Rapkin's Voice
[From the outer hall.] Mr. Ventimore! I want a word with you!
Horace
[To Fakrash, quickly.] You hear? That's my landlord, – it's his house, not mine. Just you change it – quick – before he comes in!
Fakrash
[Standing in centre.] Since thou insisteth. And be of light heart, for by to-morrow all thine affairs will prosper exceedingly!
[He waves his hand; there is a sudden and complete darkness for a few seconds, with the sounds of rumbling and rushing wind as before. Above this the Rapkins' voices are heard.
Rapkin's Voice
Turned off the lights, 'as he? But I'll talk to 'im when I see 'im!
Mrs. Rapkin's Voice
Don't let go of my 'and, Rapkin! I know there's some o' them nasty niggers about!
Rapkin's Voice
'Im and his bloomin' niggers and Arabian 'alls! [Bawling.] Mr. Ventimore! You 'ear me!
[The stage has been growing gradually lighter, and Mr. and Mrs. Rapkin are seen standing together in the room in which the play opened.
Horace
[Appearing at bedroom door on right, in smoking suit, holding candle.] Perfectly. [Blandly.] Anything the matter, Rapkin?
Rapkin
[Looking round open-mouthed, and blinking in bewilderment.] Matter, sir? No, sir. Nothink, sir. Not now, sir!
Horace
[Sweetly.] Glad to hear it. You'll be all right in the morning. Hot water at the usual time, please. Good night!
[He goes into his bedroom, leaving the stage in darkness again as the curtain falls.
END OF THE SECOND ACT
THE THIRD ACT
SCENE I
The scene represents Horace's office in Great College Street.
It is a small room, panelled in dark oak. On the left is an old mantelpiece in white and yellow marble. Beyond the fireplace is a door communicating with Pringle's office. On the right is a recessed window, through which the top of an old grey wall with chevaux-de-frise and foliage above can be seen. At the back, on the right, is a door leading to the staircase. On the left of this door, an architect's cabinet, with narrow drawers for plans, &c. On the walls are plans and architectural drawings, a T-square or two, an office calendar, and sections of mouldings, sundry cards of tiling, ornamental fittings, &c., sent out by firms as advertisements to architects. On the right, by the window, is an architect's drawing-table, with a sheet of drawing-paper, tracing-paper, saucers of colour, and other usual requisites of an architect.
The time is 11.30 on the morning after the preceding acts.
As the curtain rises, the Westminster Clock-tower chimes the half-hour.
Horace is drawing at the table on right
Horace
[To himself, looking at watch.] Half-past eleven already! – and I haven't heard from either of them yet! [With some anxiety.] Very odd! Can anything have – ? [There is a knock at the door on the left. Horace turns with a slight start as Pringle enters.] Oh, it's you, Pringle! [After a pause.] None the worse after last night, I hope?
Pringle
[Very solemnly.] I am feeling no ill-effects at present. [Coming to centre of room.] Can I have a few words with you?
Horace
[Going on designing.] Well, only a very few. We may be interrupted at any moment. I've appointments with two people this morning. Looks as if they'd both overslept themselves.
Pringle
[Gravely, as he plants himself with his back to the fireplace.] I shall not detain you long. I merely wish to explain my position. When I accepted your invitation last night, I did so with the loyal intention of resigning myself, as cheerfully as possible, to your engagement to Miss Futvoye —
Horace
[Wheeling his chair round so as to face him.] Instead of which you put a spoke in my wheel whenever you got the chance! Not behaving quite decently, was it?
Pringle
[Stiffly.] After last night, I cannot consider you as an authority on decency.
Horace
Don't rub it in, Pringle!
Pringle
As I was saying, I came prepared to leave the field to you – for I am not the sort of man to unsettle any girl's affections —
Horace
That's your modesty, Pringle! You don't realise how dangerous you are!
Pringle
[Ignoring this.] I was going to say – so long as she continues engaged to another. But if Miss Sylvia doesn't recognise yet that you are utterly unworthy of her, she very soon will. Then my chance will come – and I've every intention of taking it.
Horace
Sorry to discourage you, my dear Pringle – but your chance hasn't come yet, and it's not over likely to come at all.
[He turns to his work again.
Pringle
She'll never marry you without her father's consent – and if you'd heard him last night in the cab – !
Horace
[Easily.] I daresay. But he'll be very different this morning.
Pringle
[Who has come nearer to him.] Why, you're not trusting to that trumpery seal of yours to convince him?
Horace
No. I'm trusting to something – or rather somebody – [turning to him] – who will be more convincing than any seal.
Pringle
It will take a good deal to reconcile him, or any of them, to such an extremely – er – Oriental interior as you rejoice in.
Horace
The Oriental interior has gone, Pringle, – vanished into space!
Pringle
Nonsense! How could solidly constructed halls like those vanish in a night?
Horace
I don't pretend to know how– but they have, and that's enough for me!
[He returns to his drawing.
Pringle
[Going back to fireplace.] And this client of yours – has he vanished, too?
Horace
Old Wackerbath? Oh, no; he's much too solid to vanish – he's only a trifle late!
Pringle
I shouldn't make too sure of him.
Horace
[Listening.] I fancy he's coming upstairs now. [Rises and goes to door at back, then stops with a sudden recollection.] Unless it's the other one!
Pringle
The other one? So you've two clients!
Horace
No, only one. The other – isn't a client. [Half to himself, as he comes down.] Awkward if they happened to meet! I never thought of that! [There is a loud knock at the door to staircase.] Well, here's one of 'em, anyhow! Come in! [Mr. Wackerbath opens the door, and stands on the threshold, breathing hard, and purple and speechless with rage. Horace goes towards him.] It is Mr. Wackerbath! How do you do? [Pleasantly.] I was beginning to be afraid – [He notices Mr. Wackerbath's expression.] Eh? Has anything happened?
Mr. Wackerbath
Happened, sir? Yes, something has happened! Which you'll be good enough to explain – if you can!
Horace
Oh? [Turning to Pringle.] Perhaps, Pringle, if you wouldn't mind – ?
Pringle
[Moving to the door on the left.] Oh, by all means!
Mr. Wackerbath
[To Pringle.] Stop, sir! Don't you run away! For all I know, you may have had a hand in this disgraceful business!
Pringle
[With dignity.] I occupy the adjoining office, sir, and I am in practice as an architect. But I have no business connection with Mr. Ventimore – none whatever.
[Offering to go.
Mr. Wackerbath
You will oblige me by staying. I should like your opinion – as an architect – on the way I've been treated.
[He puts down his hat on the cabinet by the door.
Pringle
Oh, if Mr. Ventimore has no objection —
Horace
Well – oh, stay if you think proper. [To Mr. Wackerbath, offering armchair on left of table.] Now, sir; if you'll sit down and compose yourself —
Mr. Wackerbath
I will not sit down, sir, and I find it difficult to compose myself. You know very well why!
Horace
I don't, indeed. Unless – unless you've discovered the – the means by which you were induced to come to me yesterday. But, after all, there's no great harm done.
Mr. Wackerbath
[Bursting with rage.] No great harm! You can stand there and tell me that!
Horace
[Calmly.] Certainly. If you prefer to go to some other architect, you're perfectly free to do so.
Mr. Wackerbath
[Frantically.] Free! Free!! When the damned house is built!
Horace and Pringle
[Together, each starting back.] Built?
Mr. Wackerbath
Built, sir, built! When my wife and I saw it on our way to the station this morning, we could hardly believe our eyes. But my coachman – who's not given to imagination – saw it as plain as we did. [Horace hears all this with stupefaction at first, and then with growing comprehension.] And, considering I only gave you the commission yesterday afternoon, I should like to know how the devil you managed to put up such a place in the time?
Pringle
My dear sir, as a professional man, let me assure you it would be impossible – quite impossible. It must have been due to some effect of mirage.
Mr. Wackerbath
Mirage, indeed! We got out of the carriage and climbed the slope and went all over the building! Are you going to tell me we've been all over a mirage?
Horace
[Half to himself.] Oh, the blithering old idiot!
Mr. Wackerbath
[Turning on him suddenly.] Are you addressing me, sir?
Horace
No, no; not you! Of course not. [With a groan.] I told him, like a fool, where the site was – and he's done the rest during the night!
[The door at the back flies open, and Fakrash appears. He is wearing a very tall hat with a wide flat brim, a frock-coat, baggy shepherd's plaid trousers fitting tightly over his ankles, and Oriental shoes.
Fakrash
Greeting to ye, O company!
[Mr. Wackerbath and Pringle turn in surprise.
Horace
[Sinking helplessly into his chair; half to himself.] It's with you, partner! [In an undertone to Fakrash.] Take off your hat!
[Fakrash removes his tall hat with both hands, and places it on the top of Mr. Wackerbath's hat. Mr. Wackerbath, annoyed, goes to cabinet and removes his own hat.
Fakrash
[To Mr. Wackerbath.] If I mistake not, thou art the wealthy merchant for whom this my son hath undertaken to erect a mansion?
Mr. Wackerbath
I am, sir. And you, I presume, are Mr. Ventimore, senior?
Horace
No, he isn't – he's no relation of mine!
Fakrash
[To Mr. Wackerbath, proudly.] Is he not an architect of divine skill, and hath he not built thee a palace that might cause even the gall of a Sultan to burst with envy?
Mr. Wackerbath
It very nearly made me burst, sir, I can tell you that!
Fakrash
I marvel not, for verily it is a lordly dwelling for such as thou.
Mr. Wackerbath
"Lordly!" You can call it what you like. I call it a tom-fool cross between the Brighton Pavilion and the Palm-house at Kew! No billiard-room – and not a sign of any drainage system! And you have the brass – the – the unblushing effrontery to expect me to accept it as a first-class country-house with every modern convenience!
Pringle
I must say that, in all my professional experience, I never—
Horace
[Rising and approaching Mr. Wackerbath.] I'd better explain, Mr. Wackerbath. It seems that my old – er – friend here has, with the mistaken notion that he was helping me, built this palace for you himself. I haven't seen it – but, from what I know of his talents in that line, it can't be half a bad sort of place – in its way. And, anyhow, I shouldn't dream of making any charge under the circumstances. We make you a present of it – perhaps you didn't understand that? So, surely you will accept it in the – the spirit in which it was intended, what?
Mr. Wackerbath
Accept it! See the finest position in the neighbourhood occupied by a jerry-built Moorish nightmare? Be the laughing-stock of the whole county? They'd call it "Wackerbath's Folly"! I won't have it on my land a day longer than I can help! I'll go to law, sir, and compel you and your officious partner here to pull the thing down! I – I'll fight the case as long as I can stand!
Fakrash
[Who has been regarding him through this speech with glowering eyes.] "As long as thou canst stand"? That will be for no long period, O thou litigious one! [He points at him with his forefinger.] On all fours – [Mr. Wackerbath starts in speechless indignation, and bends slightly forward] – thankless dog that thou art, and crawl henceforth for the remainder of thy days!
Mr. Wackerbath
How dare you address me in that way, sir! How – [He suddenly drops forward on his hands.] I will not go down on all fours! Do you hear, sir? I will not!
Pringle
[Horrified.] But – Great Heavens, sir, you are on all fours!
Horace
[Seizing Fakrash's arm.] Now, Fakrash – just you stop this!
Fakrash
[Shaking Horace off.] Let me be! [To Mr. Wackerbath.] Begone, O contemptible of aspect! To thy kennel!
Mr. Wackerbath
[Almost whining, as he crawls distractedly about on all fours.] I can't! I won't! I can't cross Westminster Bridge like this! What will the officials think at Waterloo, where I've been known and respected for years? How am I to face my wife and family in – in my present position? I insist on getting up!
Pringle
Then, my dear sir, why don't you? Why humour him?
Mr. Wackerbath
Why, why? Because I can't help myself! Damn it, sir, do you suppose I'm doing this for my own amusement? [To Fakrash.] Here, turn off your will-power, or whatever it is, and let me up! Do let me up!
Horace
[In disgust.] I'll not have it, Fakrash! Let him up at once!
Fakrash
Far be this action from me! This son of a burnt dog hath dared to disdain a palace – therefore let his abode be in the dust for evermore!
Mr. Wackerbath
[Crawling to Horace.] You – you quite misunderstood me – I haven't a word to say against the palace. It's the very place I wanted! [Crawling up to Fakrash.] If – if you'll only let me up, I – I'll live in it – 'pon my honour I will!
Horace
[With authority, to Fakrash.] Let this unfortunate gentleman up, will you! I command you. Both on the head and eye!
Fakrash
[Sullenly, to Horace.] But for the magnitude of thy services – ! Be it as thou wilt. [He extends his arm over Mr. Wackerbath.] Rise! [Mr. Wackerbath rises and drops into chair by table, exhausted.] Depart, and show us the breadth of thy shoulders.
[Mr. Wackerbath gets up, puffing, and backs to the door.
Horace
[Going towards him with concern.] My dear sir, you must believe I've had no share in this! I – I really don't know how to apologise —
Mr. Wackerbath
[With his eyes on Fakrash.] Don't mention it, sir, pray don't mention it. I am perfectly satisfied —perfectly!
Horace
You shall be, very soon. Fakrash, clear that palace away at once. Sharp, now!
Mr. Wackerbath
[Nervously, to Fakrash.] No, no, I couldn't think of troubling you. I – I couldn't wish for a more delightful residential mansion, I assure you!
Horace
[Coming to Fakrash.] I've told you to obliterate that palace, Fakrash. Am I to tell you twice?
Fakrash
Hath not this overfed father of dogs – [Mr. Wackerbath starts, but controls his resentment immediately] – expressed his satisfaction with it?
Horace
It won't do, Fakrash! Do as you're told – and be quick about it.
Fakrash
Verily such a palace would but be defiled by his presence – therefore let it be annihilated. [He stalks to the window, which flies open at a wave of his hand, after which he faces it and mutters an incantation.] Pfpht! [All start.] It is accomplished. Of the palace and all the splendours therein there remaineth not a trace!
Horace
[Going up to Mr. Wackerbath.] Mr. Wackerbath, you will find on your return that that is so. I've only to apologise once more for all the – er – inconvenience you've been put to.
Mr. Wackerbath
[Near the door.] Not at all – not at all, I assure you. [Turning to Fakrash.] I haven't quite caught your name, my dear sir, but you must allow me to thank you for the – ah – very handsome manner in which you have met me.
Fakrash
[With a menacing movement.] Begone, I say! [Mr. Wackerbath snatches his hat from cabinet.] Or thou mayst find thyself in some yet more unfortunate predicament.
Mr. Wackerbath
[At the door.] Quite so – quite so! Er – delightful weather, isn't it? [Opening door.] Good morning, gentlemen. [Fakrash makes another movement.] Good morning.
[He goes out hurriedly.[Fakrash turns to the window and stands there with folded arms, looking out in sombre abstraction. Pringle and Horace are on the other side of the room.
Pringle
[Going towards the door to his office, and lowering his voice.] I don't think you'll see any more of Mr. Wackerbath after this.
Horace
[In an undertone.] No, I've lost him– thanks to that old busybody over there. He's done my business!
Pringle
It serves you right for having him about. Where on earth did you pick him up? Who is he?
Horace
Surely you don't need to be told! Why, he's the old Jinnee who was inside the bottle.
Pringle
Rats! – excuse the vulgarity!
Horace
Hang it! You must have noticed something queer about him!
Pringle
I have– and if he's the person you're relying on to remove the Professor's objections, I think the old gentleman should be warned against seeing him.
[He goes into his office and shuts the door; Horace returns to table, takes up the sheet on which he had been working, crumples it up, and flings it away.
Fakrash
[Turns from window to Horace.] Receive news! Henceforth I shall cease to busy myself about thine affairs.
Horace
[Sardonically.] That's the best news I've heard from you – so far.
Fakrash
[Gloomily.] Uneasiness hath entered into my heart and I am sore troubled.
Horace
So you ought to be after your latest performance. I suppose you know you've wrecked my chances as an architect? But never mind that now – have you found time to look up the Professor yet?
Fakrash
I have but lately parted from him.
[He comes to fireplace.
Horace
And you went to Cottesmore Gardens in that kit? [Amused in spite of himself.] If you could only see yourself!
Fakrash
Didst thou not order me to assume such apparel as is worn in this city?
Horace
I didn't say on the 5th of November! However, you saw him. Did you get your seal back?
Fakrash
Nay, for the sage protested that he had mislaid it!
Horace
Oh, well, never mind – it'll turn up in time. What I really want to know is whether you convinced him that you'd come out of the brass bottle?
Fakrash
[Sombrely.] As to that I can tell thee naught. On hearing that I came from thee, he reviled me as a person of no reputation, and threatened to summon a certain constable and have me delivered into custody. Whereupon I took measures – [he smiles cunningly] – to ensure his silence.
Horace
[Falling back in his chair in sudden terror.] His —silence! You – you old devil! You – you've not —killed him!
Fakrash
Nay, nay, I have not so much as harmed a hair of his head.
Horace
[Rising.] Phew! What a fright you gave me! [Moving towards fireplace, then turning.] But you've been up to some devilry or other – I'm sure of it. What have you done to him? Out with it!
Fakrash
[Going up towards door.] It was necessary for my security to – [at door] – transform him into a one-eyed mule.
Horace
[Petrified with horror.] A one-eyed what!
Fakrash
[Walks through the door, then turns, remaining visible through the door panels.] A one-eyed mule of hideous appearance. Farewell to thee.
[He disappears; Horace seizes his hat and rushes madly out as the curtain falls.
END OF THE FIRST SCENE OF THE THIRD ACT
SCENE II
The scene represents the drawing-room at 47 Cottesmore Gardens, Kensington.
It is a pleasant room, tastefully furnished. On the left a recessed fireplace, in which are ferns; on the mantelpiece are some large blue and white beakers and vases. On the right a bay-window and window-seat. The windows are wide open, showing window-boxes filled with scarlet geraniums and marguerites, and a quiet street with detached houses. At the back, on the right, is a door opening on the hall. To the left of this door are sliding-doors shutting off the Professor's study. In front of these sliding-doors is a long high backed sofa, completely covered in chintz, the flounce of which touches the floor. At the rising of the curtain these doors are closed. Behind them are curtains. Near the fireplace are an armchair and a small table. Against the wall, below the fireplace, is a cabinet. Between the sliding-doors and the door to the hall is another cabinet with door, which, when opened, shows shelves filled with ancient pottery. Above the bay-window is a bureau. Below it are a sofa and a small table.
As the curtain rises Mrs. Futvoye is seen seated in chair by the fireplace, trying to do some embroidery, though her thoughts are evidently elsewhere. From behind the sliding-doors proceed sounds as of some animal kicking and plunging.
Sylvia's voice is then heard crying: "Father, please don't!" [A succession of dull thuds as of battering hoofs.] "Oh, do take care!"
Mrs. Futvoye
[Lays down her work, rises, goes to the sliding-doors, and knocks.] Anthony! Don't go on like that, for goodness' sake! You must try and control yourself! Just think, if the servants heard you! [Jessie, a neat parlour-maid in morning costume, pink print, cap, and apron, enters from hall; Mrs. Futvoye hurriedly leaves the sofa by the sliding-doors, goes back to her chair, and takes up her work with an elaborate assumption of perfect calm.] What is it, Jessie? I haven't rung.
Jessie
I know, madam. But there's such a noise in the master's study I was afraid something had happened.
Mrs. Futvoye
[Severely.] Then it was very foolish of you. What should have happened? If you heard anything, it probably came from next door.
[Sounds of stamping from within sliding-doors, and then a noise as if some piece of furniture had been overturned.
Jessie
There it is again, madam! And it does seem to come from the study!
[Sounds as before, rather louder.
Mrs. Futvoye
Oh, that? That's nothing, nothing! The Professor is merely shifting some of the furniture.
Jessie
[Evidently devoured by curiosity.] Won't he find it too much for him, madam? Perhaps I might be able to help.
[She makes a movement towards the sliding-doors.
Mrs. Futvoye
You're not to go in there! You know your master allows nobody to touch his things. I can't have him disturbed.
[More stamping and banging – then a crash of broken glass.
Jessie
He seems to be disturbing of himself, madam – just had an accident with something. Hadn't I better go in and clear it up?
[She again makes a movement towards the sliding-doors.
Mrs. Futvoye
Certainly not! Leave the room and attend to your work. [The front door bell rings.] Good gracious! the visitors' bell! Jessie, I'm not at home! Nobody is at home! Whoever it is, mind!
Jessie
[Who has gone to the door leading to the hall and opened it, turns to Mrs. Futvoye.] I forgot to mention it, madam, but after that foreign gentleman called to see the master this morning, I found there's something wrong with the catch of the front door – leastways, I can't get it to shut, do what I will.
[Pringle comes in through the door which Jessie is holding open.
Mrs. Futvoye
[Rises and makes a step forward.] Mr. Pringle! You can go, Jessie.
[Jessie goes out with an air of baffled curiosity.
Pringle
[Shaking hands with Mrs. Futvoye.] Pray excuse my coming in unannounced – but it's rather urgent.
Mrs. Futvoye
How do you do, Mr. Pringle? [Indicating the sofa below the window.] Do sit down.
Pringle
I feel reassured already. I had a dreadful apprehension that I might come too late.
Mrs. Futvoye
[With a pathetic attempt to maintain appearances.] Half past twelve is surely quite early enough. Not that I am anything but delighted to see you, at any time.
Pringle
You are very kind. [He sits down.] But – to be quite frank – I called to see the Professor. Could I have a word or two with him at once?
Mrs. Futvoye
[Who has taken a chair near the sofa.] I'm so sorry – but that's really impossible just now.
Pringle
Indeed? I trust he is not unwell – after last night?
Mrs. Futvoye
N – not unwell exactly. But – not quite his usual self.
[More noise from study, and Sylvia's voice heard exclaiming: "Papa! Papa!"
Pringle
[Looking round.] He seems to be in his study, – and I thought I heard Miss Sylvia's voice.
Mrs. Futvoye
Yes – yes – he – he's particularly busy this morning.
[Increased noise.
Pringle
[Puzzled.] So it appears. But – [rising] – I wouldn't interrupt him for long, and it really is most important.
Mrs. Futvoye
[Rising in agitation.] I do assure you he can see nobody at present.
[She seats herself, persuading him to sit down also.
Pringle
But, Mrs. Futvoye, – if you knew what I have discovered – !
Mrs. Futvoye
[Rising again.] Discovered!
Pringle
About Ventimore. I want to put the Professor on his guard against receiving any – er – emissary from him.
Mrs. Futvoye
[Slightly relieved.] Oh, he's not likely to do that– he has much more important matters to think about!
[The noise is renewed; stamping, plunging, overturned chairs.
Pringle
Just so. Then – if I might speak to Miss Sylvia?
Mrs. Futvoye
[Hastily.] She is very busy too, helping my husband. [Here the noise reaches its finale in a resounding crash and clatter of falling furniture and shivered glass; Mrs. Futvoye proceeds without appearing to have noticed it.] He – he sometimes makes use of her as – as his amanuensis.
[The sliding-doors are suddenly run back, and Sylvia appears. She does not see Pringle, who has risen and moved to the right, from which position he can see into the study. Mrs. Futvoye makes a movement towards her to check any disclosures.
Sylvia
[In despair.] Oh, Mother! Mother! You must come to father! He's kicking worse than ever, and I can't manage him any longer!
Pringle
[To himself, recoiling, after a glance through the sliding-doors, off.] My hat!
Mrs. Futvoye
[Warningly, as Sylvia carefully closes sliding-doors, pushes the sofa aside, and comes down.] Sylvia! Don't you see Mr. Pringle?
Sylvia
[Turning and starting.] Oh! What have I said?
Mrs. Futvoye
Nothing, my dear. [Turning to Pringle.] I must ask you to excuse me, Mr. Pringle. My husband is a little irritable this morning. [Going up to sliding-doors.] A sharp attack of – of gout. In both legs, you know! [She slips in behind the long sofa, pushes back doors, draws the curtains behind them.] Anthony, you must not excite yourself like this.
[She goes into study, closing the sliding-doors after her. A slight pause. Sylvia pushes the sofa back against the sliding-doors and seats herself on it.
Pringle
[Approaching the sofa, with sympathy.] I really had no idea your father was – was as bad as all this.
Sylvia
[On her guard.] People do kick, Mr. Pringle, when they have gout – in both legs.
Pringle
Do they? I should hardly have thought – particularly – [with meaning] – if they've gout in – all four.
Sylvia
[Shrinking back.] "All four!" Then – you know!
Pringle
Pardon me – but I couldn't help catching a glimpse just now – through these doors.
Sylvia
A glimpse? What did you —suppose you saw?
Pringle
I had an impression – of course I may be quite wrong! – that any one who didn't know your father might almost mistake him, at first sight, for – I am trying to put it as delicately as I can – for some kind of – er —quadruped.
[He sits on sofa beside her.
Sylvia
You mean a mule! [She rises in tears, and crosses to the mantelpiece.] I think I could have borne it better if he'd only been a nice mule. B – but – [breaking down] – he isn't!
Pringle
[Rising and going towards her.] You don't say so! [Sympathetically.] That, of course, must make it all the harder for you.
Sylvia
[Tearfully.] His temper is simply fearful! Why, just now, when I said he must try to manage some oats or a carrot for lunch, he – he lashed out and sent his hoofs through the mummy-case!
Pringle
Dear – dear! Perhaps if you could persuade him to see a vet – [Correcting himself.] I mean a doctor—
Sylvia
[Crossing towards sofa on right.] It would be no use – he never will take medicine! And what are we to do with him? It's too dreadful to think that he may have to be sent to – to a Home of Rest for Horses!
[She sinks on sofa, and bursts into tears once more.
Pringle
[Following her.] He never was what you might call a "horsey" man – let us hope he won't come to that! Have you any idea how he came to be – er – affected like this?
Sylvia
[Resentfully, through her tears.] There's no affectation about it, Mr. Pringle – oh, you mean "afflicted" – we can't think. He wasn't as bright as usual at breakfast – I think he was rather worried because he couldn't find that seal Horace lent him last night —
Pringle
But no amount of worry– ! Pardon me, I interrupt you.
[He takes a chair by the sofa.
Sylvia
Well; then Jessie came in to say that a foreign gentleman had called to see him on important business. Father told her to show him into the study, and went in presently to hear what he came about. We heard them arguing, and father's voice seemed to be getting angry, so mother went in to beg him not to excite himself. She found father alone, and – just as she opened the door – he – he changed into a mule before her eyes.
[She breaks down entirely.
Pringle
Really? It – it must have upset her considerably.
Sylvia
It did. But, luckily, mother never loses her head. She locked the study doors at once, and we shut these, and I don't think the servants suspect anything at present. But they're sure to find out before long.
Pringle
Yes. I'm afraid it's bound to leak out.
Sylvia
But how could this horrible thing have happened?
Pringle
[Solemnly.] My dear Miss Sylvia, let me remind you that "there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in – "
Sylvia
[Petulantly.] Oh, don't quote that now, Mr. Pringle! It is so stale!
Pringle
[With wounded dignity.] It may be stale – but it's Shakespeare! And I can only conclude that – even in the twentieth century – magic is not the lost art I had always imagined it.
Sylvia
[Turning to him with more interest.] Then you believe now that Horace did find a Jinnee in that brass bottle?
Pringle
[Rising.] No, no. I don't go as far as that.
Sylvia
How far do you go?
Pringle
Well, I know that Ventimore is associated with an elderly Oriental who possesses extraordinary will-power. This very morning, in Ventimore's own office, they played a highly unprofessional and discreditable trick between them on your own godfather, Mr. Wackerbath.
