[The noise is renewed; stamping, plunging, overturned chairs.
[The noise is renewed; stamping, plunging, overturned chairs.
Pringle.
Just so. Then—if I might speak to Miss Sylvia?
Mrs. Futvoye.
[Hastily.]Sheis 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. Futvoyeproceeds without appearing to have noticed it.] He—he sometimes makes use of her as—as his amanuensis.
[The sliding-doors are suddenly run back, andSylviaappears. She does not seePringle,who has risen and moved to the right, from which position he can see into the study.Mrs. Futvoyemakes a movement towards her to check any disclosures.
[The sliding-doors are suddenly run back, andSylviaappears. She does not seePringle,who has risen and moved to the right, from which position he can see into the study.Mrs. Futvoyemakes a movement towards her to check any disclosures.
Sylvia.
[In despair.] Oh, Mother! Mother! Youmustcome 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.] Myhat!
Mrs. Futvoye.
[Warningly, asSylviacarefully closes sliding-doors, pushes the sofa aside, and comes down.] Sylvia! Don't you see Mr. Pringle?
Sylvia.
[Turning and starting.] Oh! WhathaveI said?
Mrs. Futvoye.
Nothing, my dear. [Turning toPringle.] 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 mustnotexcite yourself like this.
[She goes into study, closing the sliding-doors after her. A slight pause.Sylviapushes the sofa back against the sliding-doors and seats herself on it.
[She goes into study, closing the sliding-doors after her. A slight pause.Sylviapushes 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 allthis.
Sylvia.
[On her guard.] Peopledokick, Mr. Pringle, when they have gout—in both legs.
Pringle.
Dothey? I should hardly have thought—particularly—[with meaning]—if they've gout in—all four.
Sylvia.
[Shrinking back.] "All four!" Then—youknow!
Pringle.
Pardon me—but I couldn't help catching a glimpse just now—through these doors.
Sylvia.
A glimpse? What did you—supposeyou saw?
Pringle.
I had an impression—of course I may be quite wrong!—that any one who didn'tknowyour 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.
[He sits on sofa beside her.
Sylvia.
You mean amule! [She rises in tears, and crosses to the mantelpiece.] I think I could have borne it better if he'd only been anicemule. B—but—[breaking down]—heisn'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 simplyfearful! 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 adoctor——
Sylvia.
[Crossing towards sofa on right.] It would be no use—he neverwilltake medicine! And what are we todowith 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.
[She sinks on sofa, and bursts into tears once more.
Pringle.
[Following her.] He neverwaswhat you might call a "horsey" man—let us hope he won't come tothat! Have you any idea how he came to be—er—affected like this?
Sylvia.
[Resentfully, through her tears.] There's noaffectationabout it, Mr. Pringle—oh, you mean "afflicted"—we can'tthink. 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 ofworry——! Pardon me, I interrupt you.
[He takes a chair by the sofa.
[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 voiceseemed 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.
[She breaks down entirely.
Pringle.
Really? It—it must have upset her considerably.
Sylvia.
Itdid. But, luckily, mother never loses her head. She locked the study doors at once, and we shut these, and I don'tthinkthe 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 thatnow, Mr. Pringle! Itisso 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.] Thenyoubelieve now that Horacedidfind a Jinnee in that brass bottle?
Pringle.
[Rising.] No, no. I don't go as far asthat.
Sylvia.
How fardoyou 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.
Sylvia.
On godfather! No, no, I'm sure Horace had nothing to do withthat!
Pringle.
I wasthere—and he evidently had a greatdealto do with it. I thought at the time it was hypnotism—butit's clear enoughnowthat this confederate of Ventimore's is a powerful and most unscrupulous magician.
Sylvia.
[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! youcan't! Iknowhe'd never send a magician to hurt father! [AsHoraceenters from the hall, looking pale and wild.] Ah! Horace, you needn't tell me!Youat least have no share in what has happened!
Horace.
[Going to her and taking both her hands.] Darling! For Heaven's sake tell me whathashappened?
Sylvia.
[Triumphantly.] You hear, Mr. Pringle? He doesn't even know!Nowwill you dare to repeat what you were saying—to his face?
Pringle.
If you insist. I've been saying, Ventimore, that I believeyouto have inspired this abominable transformation of the Professor.
Horace.
It's true, then? He—he reallyisa mule?
Sylvia.
[Disengaging herself, with a sudden doubt.] Horace, tell me—didyou send any one to father!
Horace.
[Sinking into chair by sofa.] Heaven forgive me! I did.
Sylvia.
[Recoiling from him with aversion.] To transform him into a mule?
[She goes to a chair below fireplace, and seats herself in despair.
[She goes to a chair below fireplace, and seats herself in despair.
Horace.
[Rising and going towards her.] No, no! I wanted old Fakrash to convince him that he reallyhadbeen in the bottle—but not likethis! I thought I could trust him to dothat! [Bitterly.] But I might have known!
Pringle.
So you still stick to that story about the Jinnee?
Horace.
Surely evenyoumust believe it now?
Pringle.
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 youdoit, you know!
Sylvia.
Ah!
Horace.
I can manage him right enough when he'sthere—it's when I haven't got my eye on him that he makes all these mistakes.
Sylvia.
Butwhyshould he change poor father into a one-eyed mule? It's so utterly unreasonable!
Horace.
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'lltake care that your father will soon be restored.
Sylvia.
[Rising, overjoyed.] Youwill? Oh, Imusttell them! [Rushing to the sliding-doors and slightly opening them.] Mother, mother! I've news—goodnews!
Mrs. Futvoye.
[Looking cautiously through the opening.] What is it, Sylvia? [SeesHoracewith displeasure.] Mr. Ventimore!Youhere! [Stamping heard from study.Mrs. Futvoyeturns and speaks over her shoulder.] Keep back, Anthony! Keep back! Remember—you're not fit to be seen, as youare!
Sylvia.
[Happily.] It doesn't matter, mother. Theybothknow. And Horace is going to make father all right again.
Mrs. Futvoye.
Oh, inthatcase——
[She pushes the sofa aside and comes through, leaving the sliding-doors open, and pulling the curtains back, but replacing the sofa.
[She pushes the sofa aside and comes through, leaving the sliding-doors open, and pulling the curtains back, but replacing the sofa.
Horace.
Mrs. Futvoye, I've something to say which I think will cheer the Professor up a bit.
Mrs. Futvoye.
Unless you can say how and when my husband may expect to see an end of all this——
Horace.
I shall make old Fakrash see to that.
Mrs. Futvoye.
Make old Fakrash see to it?
Horace.
The Jinnee I let out of that brass bottle. I told you all about him last night. You didn't believe methen.
Pringle.
None of us did. But I'm afraid, Mrs. Futvoye, we've got to believe now.
Mrs. Futvoye.
[ToHorace.] Then—areyouresponsible for this?
Horace.
Indirectly. Only indirectly. I couldn't prevent Fakrash making an ass of himself.
Mrs. Futvoye.
You might have prevented his making a mule of my husband!
[Another plunge and crash of glass from behind.
[Another plunge and crash of glass from behind.
Horace.
I wasn't consulted! But I will saythisfor old Fakrash—nobody's readier to repair a blunder when once it's pointed out to him. He'll do anything forme.
Mrs. Futvoye.
Then send for him andinsiston his repairing what he's done here.
Sylvia.
[Eagerly, down on right.] Yes, yes. Send for him, Horace,sendfor him!
Horace.
[Heavily.] I'm afraid it wouldn't be any use.
Pringle.
Nonsense! You could make him come if youchose!
Horace.
I tell you I can't. I don't even know where he is—or if he hasn't gone off to Arabia again——
Mrs. Futvoye.
Off to Arabia! [Going towards him.] And when—whenis he likely to beback?
Horace.
[Suddenly.] Oh! [He collapses into the chair above the fireplace.] I—I've only just remembered. He told me he was going tosettle downthere!
[General consternation.
[General consternation.
Mrs. Futvoye.
And is my husband to remain a mule for the rest of his life?
[Furious plunging heard from study.
[Furious plunging heard from study.
Horace.
[In a choked voice.] Don't ask me, Mrs. Futvoye—don'taskme!
Pringle.
[Coming towardsHorace.] Ithought, Ventimore, you came to cheer the Professor up?
Sylvia.
Horace, if you don't summon that odious Jinnee this instant, I shallhateyou! I'mbeginningto, as it is!
Horace.
[Rising and coming towards her.] My darling, I'd do any mortal thing I could—but I'm helpless! [At this instantFakrash,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.Horacesees 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 tome.Iknow how to manage him. [He approachesFakrash.] So here you are! If you aren't ashamed of yourself, you jolly welloughtto be! A pretty mess you've landed us in this time! Just you get usoutof it again!
Fakrash.
[Waving him aside.] No greeting to thee! I have come upon my own affairs.
Horace.
You'll attend tominefirst. Undo this infamous spell of yours—do you hear?
Fakrash.
[Sullenly.] I will grant nothing more atthyrequest.
Horace.
I don't think you quite understand. I don'trequest—Icommand. On the head and on the eye!
Fakrash.
Thou art wasting breath. No longer am I under obligation to thee, O thou perfidious one!
Horace.
[Anxiously.] Why—what'scometo you? [Coaxingly.] I say! Fakrash—oldchappie. Don't play the goatnow! Youcan'tmean to leave me on the mat like this!
Fakrash.
[Glaring at him.] Canst thou not perceive how hateful thou hast become to me?
Horace.
Idonotice a coolness. Butwhy? You were chummy enough not half an hour ago!
Fakrash.
[Going from him towards right.] I had not then discovered thy treachery.
Horace.
You're barking up the wrong tree, as usual, you know. Come—tell me what it's all about?
Fakrash.
Not now. I will deal with thee hereafter, misbegotten cur that thou art!
[He stalks towards window.
[He stalks towards window.
Mrs. Futvoye.
[From below fireplace, toHorace.] You don't seem to be managing him very wellsofar.
Pringle.
[Coming down toHorace.] You gave us to understand that he would doanythingfor you.
Horace.
So he will, generally—but not just now. [Crossing toMrs. FutvoyeandSylvia,whileFakrashremains apart, with his back to the others.] He's suddenly turned nasty—I've no idea why. But I shall bring him round—in time.
Mrs. Futvoye.
It's myhusbandwho has to be brought round—and there's no time to be lost!
Horace.
I know—but if I press Fakrash in his present mood, I shall only make matters worse.
Pringle.
Well, if you can't—orwon't—get him to do something, one ofusmust try! Perhaps if Miss Sylvia could bring herself to appeal to his better feelings——?
Sylvia.
[Shrinking back.] People who come out of bottles can'thavebetter feelings! I couldn't—really, I couldn't.
Pringle.
You'd rather not? [Sylviashudders.] Then I must see whatIcan do.
Mrs. Futvoye.
Howgoodof you!
Horace.
[DrawingPringleback as he is going towardsFakrash.] Iwouldn't, Pringle! He's in a vile temper. And, unless you'reanxiousto become a domestic animal of some sort——
Sylvia.
Praydon't run such a risk, dear Mr. Pringle!
Pringle.
I shall be very careful, and I trust that, withordinary tact——[He makes a step towardsFakrash.] Ahem! [Fakrashturns suddenly round with a feline snarl; all retreat to left;Pringlepulls himself together and tries again.] My—my dear sir, may I ask your attention for a few moments?
Fakrash.
[Striding towards him.] Who artthou?—a friend of yonder serpent's?
Horace.
[Indignantly.] Oh, I say! "Serpent," you know! "Serpent" is a bit——
[Fakrashignores him.
[Fakrashignores him.
Pringle.
No, no, I repudiate him. I represent this unfortunate family—theyrepudiate him too.
Mrs. Futvoye and Sylvia.
[Together.] Yes, yes, indeed—indeedwe do!
[Horacesinks speechlessly on chair by sofa on right.
[Horacesinks speechlessly on chair by sofa on right.
Fakrash.
[ToPringle.] I will hearken unto thee, for indeed thou seemest a person of abundant intelligence and excellent conduct.
Pringle.
You're very kind—I hope Iam. Hem! [Going nearerFakrash.] I am sure, sir, that, if you hadrealised the serious embarrassment you have caused the members of this household by transforming its head into a one-eyed mule, you would never have allowed your—your sense of humour to carry you so far.
Fakrash.
For mine own safety was it accomplished—for the sage threatened to deliver me into custody.
Horace.
[Starting up and coming towardsFakrash.] He nevermeantit! And, anyhow,you'resafe enough!
Fakrash.
[Turning on him fiercely.] Hold thy lying tongue!
Pringle.
Ventimore, I must beg you not to interfere.
Horace.
Damn it all, Pringle, he'smyJinnee—not yours!
[He attempts to joinMrs. FutvoyeandSylvia,who turn their backs on him, after which he returns to his former place, crushed.
[He attempts to joinMrs. FutvoyeandSylvia,who turn their backs on him, after which he returns to his former place, crushed.
Pringle.
[ToFakrash.] Evidently, sir, there has been some slight misunderstanding on both sides. But I feel confident that, if you will only consent to see thisunfortunate gentleman, the matter can very soon be amicably arranged.
Fakrash.
I am here for this very purpose. Let this learned man appear before me.
Pringle.
I won't keep you waiting long. [He goes up to the sliding-doors and calls.] Professor! If you will kindly step this way, Mr. Fakrash would be glad to see you.
[A pause.The Mulecomes slowly on from the left side of the sliding doors.
[A pause.The Mulecomes slowly on from the left side of the sliding doors.
Horace.
[Overwhelmed.] Great Heavens above!
Pringle.
[Trying to be polite and at his ease.] Er—how do you do, Professor? Sorry to see you looking so—so unlike yourself. [The Muleshows irritation;Pringleretreats nervously; then, in an undertone toMrs. Futvoye.] He—he can't jump that sofa, can he?
Mrs. Futvoye.
[In an undertone, to him.] Of course not—that's why it's there!
Pringle.
[ToFakrash.] A distinguished archæologist, sir, a corresponding member of every learned society inEurope—reduced to these extremities! [ToThe Mule,which seems to feel its position acutely.] Professor, as Ventimore has refused to interfere, I have taken on myself to assure this—this venerable Jane——
Horace.
[In an undertone toPringle.]Jinnee!Call him "Jinnee"!
Pringle.
[ToHorace.] I prefer to leave such familiarities toyou, Ventimore——[ToMule.]—this venerablepersonage, Professor, that if you have inadvertently offended him, you are ready to make any reasonable apology. That is so?
[The Mulebows its head.
[The Mulebows its head.
Fakrash.
Ask if he be willing to surrender the stopper of the bottle wherein I was enclosed.
[Muleshakes head.
[Muleshakes head.
Pringle.
Now, Professor, if you consent to a request which I must say seems to me a very moderate and proper one, will you—er—signify the same in the usual manner by raising—er—your right ear?
[The Mule'sleft ear goes up sharply.
[The Mule'sleft ear goes up sharply.
Fakrash.
Theleftear! He refuseth!
Pringle.
No, no, hemeantthe right ear—he hasn't got complete muscular control as yet. Ireallythink we should get on better if you gave him back his power of speech.
Fakrash.
It may be so. [He approachesThe Muleand addresses it.] O thou of remarkable attainments, whom I have caused to assume the shape of this mule, speak, I command thee, and say if thou wilt restore my stopper.
The Mule.
[Laying back its ears and showing its teeth.] I'll see you damned first!
[General sensation.
[General sensation.
Mrs. Futvoye.
[Going towardsThe Mulein distress.] Oh! he wouldn't be so obstinate if he wasn't a mule!
Fakrash.
[ToThe Mule.] Thou art trifling with my safety and thine own! Reveal unto me the spot in which thou hast hidden the stopper and delay not—for it will be no difficult undertaking to transform these women of thine into mules like thyself.
[Horror ofMrs. FutvoyeandSylvia,and despair and rage ofHorace,who rises and rushes towardsFakrash.
[Horror ofMrs. FutvoyeandSylvia,and despair and rage ofHorace,who rises and rushes towardsFakrash.
The Mule.
You candoit for allIcare——!
Mrs. Futvoye.
Oh, Anthony!
The Mule.
We shall at least be a more united family than we are now!
Mrs. Futvoye.
[Frantically.] Anthony! Don't provoke him! Think ofothers!
Fakrash.
[With some anxiety.] Hearken! I am disposed to show thee indulgence. Obey,—and I will restore thee to what thou wert.
The Mule.
Why couldn't you say so before? I'll acceptthoseterms, as there's no alternative. Only—[with his head on one side reflectively]—I can't for the life of me recollect what Ididwith that seal. Tut-tut!
Mrs. Futvoye.
Oh, Anthony! Think! Think!
[General suspense and excitement.
[General suspense and excitement.
The Mule.
[Irritably.] Iamthinking, Sophia! [After further reflection.] Ah! I remember now! I put it inside one of the vases on the mantelpiece, for safety.
[Horacelooks aimlessly under the table and sofa;Mrs. Futvoye,Sylvia,andPringlerush to the fireplace and search the vases.
[Horacelooks aimlessly under the table and sofa;Mrs. Futvoye,Sylvia,andPringlerush to the fireplace and search the vases.
Mrs. Futvoye and Sylvia.
[Turning vases upside down.] Which? Which? No. It's notthere! It's nothere.
[Turning vases upside down.] Which? Which? No. It's notthere! It's nothere.
Pringle.
[As he finds the metal cap in the last vase.] I've got it! [Going toFakrash,and presenting it.] Allow me, sir.
[Fakrashsnatches it eagerly.Pringlegoes up toThe Muleand reassures it,Mrs. Futvoyeaccompanying him.
[Fakrashsnatches it eagerly.Pringlegoes up toThe Muleand reassures it,Mrs. Futvoyeaccompanying him.
Fakrash.
[Gloating over the cap.] It is indeed my stopper! Now shall I be secure from disturbance!
Horace.
[Going toFakrash,seizing his arm, and drawing him to the right; then, in an undertone.] Pitch into me afterwards if you like—but listen now. Youmustkeepyourside of the bargain!
Fakrash.
[Coldly.] WhatIhave promised I perform.
Horace.
[Relieved.] Ah, Iknewyou were a good old sort—at bottom. And—I say—domake them understand thatI'vehad nothing to do with all this.
Fakrash.
[Grimly.] Have no uneasiness—for thou shalt receive justice. [Horaceretires to sofa on right, expecting to be rehabilitated.] Hear, O company, my words! I repent of my conduct in obeying the orders of yonder wretch—[pointing toHorace,who gasps in stupefaction]—who is seeking even now to deter me from showing kindness.
Horace.
Liar!Liar!
Fakrash.
Being desirous of escaping marriage with this damsel—[with a step towardsSylvia]—he commanded me to transform her father as ye see. And I, whom he had delivered from a bottle of brass, was compelled by gratitude to fulfil all his desires.
Horace.
[Going up toFakrashfuriously.] You infernal old scoundrel! [Fakrashsmiles malignantly and stalks off to the right;Horacecrosses toSylvia.]Youdon't believe him, Sylvia? Youcan't!
Sylvia.
Don't speak to me! Don't come near me!
[Mrs. FutvoyeandPringleexpress disgust and indignation.
[Mrs. FutvoyeandPringleexpress disgust and indignation.
Horace.
You're devilishhardon me, all of you. [He staggers to the sofa in front of sliding-doors and falls back, hitting his head againstThe Mule'snose;The Mulemakes a grab at him; he rises in confusion.] I—I beg your pardon, sir!
[He retreats to the left of the sofa.
[He retreats to the left of the sofa.
Sylvia.
[Down on left, toFakrash.] But you won't obey him any longer,willyou? Youaregoing to restore poor father?
Fakrash.
[On the right.] Let him first swear that he and all his household will preserve secrecy concerning this affair.
The Mule.
[Angrily.] Damn it, sir, we're not likely tochatterabout it!
Pringle.
[ApproachingFakrash,reassuringly.] It will never be allowed to go beyond the family.
Fakrash.
[ToPringle.] O eloquent and comely-faced one, I accept thy undertaking, for thou art indeed a worthy and honourable person. [AsPringle,highly flattered, returns toThe Mule,FakrashbeckonsMrs. Futvoye.] In order that I may restore thy husband, bring me hither a cup of fair water.
Mrs. Futvoye.
There's some in the dining-room. [Going towards door to hall.] At least, it'sfiltered, ifthatwill do!
The Mule.
Don't ask foolish questions, Sophia—do as you'retold!
Mrs. Futvoye.
[With dignity.] I think you forget yourself, Anthony!