f- LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF zmmm RIVERSIDE THE BEASS BOTTLE V ^> — "M (L^ ly" THE JINNEE AND HORACE RETURN TO VINCENT SQUARE. {Fage 286.) THE BRASS BOTTLE C BY r F. ANSTEY, AUTUOR OF " VICE VEBSA," ETC. ETC. WITH A FRONTISPIECE LONDON SMITH, ELDER & CO., 15, WATERLOO PLACE 1900 (All rights reserved) I Copyridltt, 1900, h)i D. Applcton ifc Company, in the United States of America. PltlNTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SOXS, LIMITKD, LONTJON ASD BECCLES. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. Horace Vextimore receives a Comjiissiox ... 1 ir. A Cheap Lot ... ... ... ... IG III. Ax Unexpected Opexixg ... ... ... 24 IV. At Large ... ... ... ... 42 V. Carte Blanche ... ... ... ... 49 VL Embaeras de Kiciiesses ... ... G9 VIL " Gratitude — a Lively Sense of Favours to come" ... ... ... ... 85 VIIL Bachelor's Quarters ... ... ... 103 IX. "Persicos odi, Puer, Apparatus" ... IIG X. No Place like Home! ... ... ... 147 XI. A Fool's Paradise ... ... ... 157 XII. The Messenger of Hope ... ... ... 180 XIII. A Choice of Evils ... ... ... 195 XIV. " Since there's no Help, come, let us kiss AND part!" ... ... ... 215 XV. Blushing Honours ... ... ... ... 237 XVI. A Killing Frost ... ... ... 248 XVn. High Words ... ... ... ... 2G3 XVIIL A Game of Bluff ... ... ... 279 The Epilogue ... ... ... ... 304 I THE BEASS BOTTLE, CHAPTER I. HORACE VENTIMORE RECEIVES A COMMISSION. " This day six weeks — just six weeks ago ! " Horace Yentimore said, half aloud, to himself, and pulled out his watch. "Half-past twelve — what was I doing at half-past twelve ? " As he sat at the window of his ofSce in Great Cloister Street, Westminster, he made his thoughts travel back to a certain glorions morning in August which now seemed so remote and irrecoverable. At this precise time he was waiting on the balcony of the Hotel de la Plage — the sole hostelry of St. Luc-en- Port, the tiny Normandy watering-place npon which, by some happy inspiration, he had lighted during a solitary cycling tour — waiting until She should appear. He could see the whole scene : the tiny cove, with the violet shadow of the cliff sleeping on the green B 2 THE BRASS BOTTLE. water; the swell of the waves lazily lapping against the diving-board from which he had plnnged half an hour before ; he remembered the long swim out to the buoy ; the exhilarated anticipation Avith which he had dressed and climbed the steep path to the hotel terrace. For was he not to pass the whole remainder of that blissful day in Sylvia Futvoye's society ? Were they not to cycle together (there were, of course, others of the party — but they did not count), to cycle over to Veulettes, to picnic there under the cliff, and ride back — always together — in the sweet-scented dusk, over the sloj^es, between the poplars or the cornfields glowing golden against a sky of warm purple ? Now he saw himself going round to the gravelled courtyard in front of the hotel with a sudden dread of missing her. There was nothing there but the little low cart, with its canvas tilt, which was to convey Professor Futvoye and his wife to the place of rendezvous. There was Sylvia at last, distractingly fair and fresh in her cool pink blouse and cream-coloured skirt ; how gracious and friendly and generally delightful she had been throughout that unforgettable day, which was supreme amongst others only a little less perfect, and all now fled for ever ! They had had drawbacks, it was true. Old Futvoye was perhaps the least bit of a bore at times, with his HOEACE VENTIMORE RECEIVES A COMMISSIOX. 3 interminable disquisitions on Egyptian art and ancient Oriental character-writing, in which he seemed con- vinced that Horace must feel a perfervid interest, as, indeed, he thought it politic to affect. The Professor was a most learned archaeologist, and positively bulged with information on his favourite subjects ; but it is just possible that Horace might have been less curious concerning the distinction between Cuneiform and Aramrean or Kufic and Arabic inscriptions if his informant had happened to be the father of anybody- else. However, such insincerities as these are but so many evidences of sincerity. So with self-tormenting ingenuity Horace conjured up various pictures from tliat Norman holiday of his: the little half-timbered cottages with their faded blue shutters and the rushes growing out of their thatch roofs ; the spires of village churches gleaming above the bronze-green beeches ; the bold headlands, their ochre and yellow cliffs contrasting grimly with the soft ridges of the turf above them ; the tethered black-and-white cattle grazing peacefully against a background of lapis lazuli and malachite sea, and in every scene the sensation of Sylvia's near presence, the sound of her voice in his ears. And now? .... He looked up from the papers and tracing- cloth on his desk, and round the small panelled room which served him as an office, at the framed plans and photographs, the set squares and T squares on the 4 THE BRASS BOTTLE. walls, and felt a dull resentment against his sur- roundings. From his window he commanded a cheer- ful view of a tall, mouldering wall, once part of the Abbey boundaries, surmounted by chevaiix-de-frise, above whose rust-attenuated spikes some plane trees stretched their yellowing branches. " She would have come to care for me," Horace's thoughts ran on, disjointedly. " I could have sworn that that last day of all — and her people didn't seem to object to me. Her mother asked me cordially enough to call on them when they were back in town. When I did " When he had called, there had been a difference — not an unusual sequel to an acquaintanceship begun in a Continental watering-place. It was difficult to define, but unmistakable — a certain formality and constraint on Mrs. Futvoye's part, and even on Sylvia's, which seemed intended to warn him that it is not every friendship that survives the Channel passage. So he had gone away sore at heart, but fully recognising that any advances in future must come from their side. They might ask him to dinner, or at least to call again ; but more than a month had passed, and they had made no sign. No, it was all over ; he must consider himself dropped. " After all," he told himself, with a short and any- thing but mirthful laugh, " it's natural enough. Mrs. Futvoye has probably been making inquiries about HORACE VENTIMOEE RECEIVES A COMMISSION. 5 my professional prospects. It's better as it is. What earthly chance have I got of marrying unless I can get work of my own? It's all I can do to keep myself decently. I've no right to dream of asking any one — to say nothing of Sylvia — to marry me. I should only be rushing into temptation if I saw any more of her. She's not for a poor beggar like me, who was born unlucky. Well, whining won't do any good — let's have a look at Beevor's latest perform- ance." He spread out a large coloured plan, in a corner of which appeared the name of " William Beevor, Archi- tect," and began to study it in a spirit of anything but appreciation. "Beevor gets on," he said to himself. "Heaven knows I don't grudge him his success. He's a good fellow — though he does build architectural atrocities, and seems to like 'em. Who am I to give myself airs? He's successful — I'm not. Yet if I only had his opportunities, what wouldn't I make of them ! " Let it be said here that this was not the ordinary self-delusion of an incompetent. Yentimore really had talent above the average, with ideals and ambi- tions which might under better conditions have attained recognition and fulfilment before this. But he was not quite energetic enough, besides being too proud, to push himself into notice, and hitherto he had met with persistent ill-luck. 6 TDK BRASS BOTTLE. So Horace liad no other occupation now but to give Beevor, whose offices and clerk he shared, such slight assistance as he might require, and it was by no means cheerinof to feel that every vear of this en- forced semi-idleness left him further handicapped in the race for wealth and fame, for he had already passed his twenty-eighth birthday. If Miss Sylvia Futvoye had indeed felt attracted towards him at one time it was not altogether incom- jirehensible. Horace Ventimore was not a model of manly beauty — models of manly beauty are rare out of novels, and seldom interesting in them ; but his clear-cut, clean-shaven face possessed a certain dis- tinction, and if there were faint satirical lines about the mouth, they were redeemed by the expression of the grey-blue eyes, which were remarkably frank and pleasant. He was well made, and tall enough to escape all danger of being described as short ; fair- haired and pale, without being unhealthily pallid, in complexion, and he gave the impression of being a man who took life as it came, and whose sense of humour would serve as a lining for most clouds that might darken his horizon. There was a rap at the door which communicated with Beevor's office, and Beevor himself, a florid, thick- set man, with small side-whiskers, burst in. " I say, Ventimore, you didn't run off with the plans for that house I'm building at Larchmere, did you ? HORACE YENTIMOKE RECEIVES A COMMISSION. 7 Because— ah, I see you're looking over them. Sorry to deprive you, but " " Thanks, old fellow, take them, by all means. I've seen all I wanted to see." " Well, I'm just off to Larchmere now. Want to be there to check the quantities, and there's my other house at Fittlesdon. I must go on afterwards and set it out, so I shall probably be away some days. I'm taking Harrison down, too. You won't be wanting him, eh ? " Yentimore laughed. " I can manage to do nothing without a clerk to help me. Your necessity is greater than mine. Here are the plans." " I'm rather pleased with 'em myself, you know," said Beevor ; " that roof ought to look well, eh ? Good idea of mine lightening the slate with that ornamental tile-work along the top. You saw I put in one of your windows with just a trifling addition. I was almost inclined to keep both gables alike, as you suggested, but it struck me a little variety — one red brick and the other ' parged ' — would be more out-of-the-way." "Oh, much," agreed Yentimore, knowing that to disagree was useless. " Not, mind you," continued Beevor, " that I believe in going in for too much originality in domestic archi- tecture. The average client no more wants an original house than he wants an original hat ; he wants some- thino; he won't feel a fool in. I've often thought, old 8 THE BRASS BOTTLE. man, that f>erliaps the reason why you haven't got on you don't mind my speaking candidly, do you ? " " Not a bit," said Ventimore, cheerfully. " Candour's the cement of friendship. Dab it on." " Well, I was only going to say that you do yourself no good by all those confoundedly unconventional, ideas of yours. If you had your chance to-morrow, it's my belief you'd throw it away by insisting on some fantastic fad or other." " These speculations are a trifle premature, consider- ing that there doesn't seem the remotest prospect of my ever getting a chance at all." "I got mine before I'd set up six months," said Beevor. " The great thing, however," he went on, with a flavour of personal application, " is to know how to use it when it does come. Well, I must be off if I mean to catch that one o'clock from Waterloo. You'll see to any- thing that may come in for me while I'm away, won't you, and let me know ? Oh, by the way, the quantity surveyor has just sent in the quantities for that school- room at Woodford — do you mind running through them and seeing they're right? And there's the specification for the new wing at Tusculum Lodge — you might draft that some time when you've nothing else to do. You'll find all the papers on my desk. Thanks awfully, old chap." And Beevor hurried back to his own room, where for the next few minutes he could be heard bustlincr HORACE VENTIMORE RECEIVES A COMMISSION. 9 Harrison, the clerk, to make baste ; then a hansom was whistled for, there were footsteps down the old stairs, the sounds of a departing vehicle on the uneven stones, and after that silence and solitude. It was not in Nature to avoid feeling a little envious. Beevor had work to do in the world : even if it chiefly consisted in profaning sylvan retreats by smug or pretentious villas, it was still work which entitled him to consideration and respect in the eyes of all right- minded persons. And nobody believed in Horace; as yet he had never known the satisfaction of seeing the work of liis brain realised in stone and brick and mortar ; no building stood anywhere to bear testimony to his existence and capability long after he himself should have passed away. It was not a profitable train of thought, and, to escape from it, he went into Bsevor's room and fetched the documents he had mentioned— at least they would keep him occupied until it was time to go to his club and lunch. He had no sooner settled down to his calculations, however, when he heard a shuffling step on the landing, followed by a knock at Beevor's office-door. " More work for Beevor," he thought ; " what luck the fellow has ! I'd better go in and explain that he's just left town on business." But on entering the adjoining room he heard the knocking repeated — this time at his own door ; and 10 THE BRASS BOTTLE. hastening back to i)ut an end to this somewhat un- dignified form of hide-and-seek, he discovered that this visitor at least was legitimately his, and was, in fact, no other than Professor Anthony Futvoye himself. The Professor was standing in the doorway peering short-sightedly through his convex glasses, his head protruded from his loosely-fitting great-coat with an irresistible suggestion of an inquiring tortoise. To Horace his ajjpearance was more welcome than that of the wealthiest client— for why should Sylvia's father take the trouble to j)ay him this visit unless he still wished to continue the acquaintanceship ? It might even be that he was the bearer of some message or invitation. So, although to an impartial eye the Professor might not seem the kind of elderly gentleman whose society would produce any wild degree of exhilaration, Horace was unfeignedly delighted to see him. " Extremely kind of you to come and see me like this, sir," he said warmly, after establishing him in the solitary armchair reserved for hypothetical clients. "Not at all. I'm afraid your visit to Cottesmore Gardens some time ago was somewhat of a disappoint- ment." " A disappointment ? " echoed Horace, at a loss to know what was coming next. " I refer to the fact — which possibly, however, escaped your notice " — explained the Professor, HORACE VENTIMORE RECEIVES A COMMISSION. 11 scratching his scanty patch of grizzled whisker with a touch of irascibility, " that I myself was not at home on that occasion." " Indeed, I was greatly disappointed," said Horace, " though of course I know how much you are engaged. It's all the more good of you to spare time to drop in for a chat just now." "I've not come to chat, Mr. Ventimore. I never chat. I wanted to see you about a matter which I thought you might be so obliging as to But I observe you are busy — probably too busy to attend to such a small affair." It was clear enough now ; the Professor was going to build, and had decided — could it be at Sylvia's sug- gestion ? — to intrust the work to him ! But he con- trived to subdue any self-betraying eagerness, and reply (as he could with perfect truth) that he had nothing on hand just then which he could not lay aside, and that if the Professor would let him know what he required, he could take it up at once. " So much the better," said the Professor ; " so much the better. Both my wife and daughter declared that it was making far too great a demand upon your good nature ; but, as I told them, * I am much mistaken,' I said, * if Mr. Ventim ore's practice is so extensive that he cannot leave it for one afternoon ' " Evidently it was not a house. Could he be needed to escort them somewhere that afternoon ? Even that 12 THE BRASS BOTTLE. was more than he had hoped for a few minutes since. He hastened to repeat that he was perfectly free that afternoon. " In that case," said the Professor, beginning to fumble in all his pockets — Avas he searching for a note in Sylvia's handwriting ? — " in that case, you will be conferring a real favour on me if you can make it convenient to attend a sale at Hammond's Auction Kooms in Covent Garden, and just bid for one or two articles on my behalf." Whatever disappointment Ventimore felt, it may be said to his credit that he allowed no sign of it to appear. " Of course I'll go, with pleasure," he said, " if I can be of any use." " I knew I should u't come to you in vain," said the Professor. " I remembered your wonderful good nature, sir, in accompanying my wife and daughter on all sorts of expeditions in the blazing hot weather we had at St. 1a\c — when you might have remained quietly at the hotel with me. Not that I should trouble you now, only I have to lunch at the Oriental Club, and I've an appointment afterwards to examine and report on a recently-discovered inscribed cylinder for the Museum, which will fully occupy the rest of the afternoon, so that it's physically impossible for me to go to Hammond's myself, and I strongly object to employing a broker when I can avoid it. Where did I put that catalogue ? . . . Ah, here it is. This HOEACE VENTIMORE EEOEIVES A COMMISSION. 13 was sent to me by the executors of my old friend, General CoUingham, who died the other day. I met him at Nakada when I was out excavating some years ago. He was something of a collector in his way, though he knew very little about it, and, of course, was taken in right and left. Most of his things are downright rubbish, but there are just a few lots that are worth securing, at a reasonable figure, by some one who knew what he was about." " But, my dear Professor," remonstrated Horace, not relishing this resj)onsibility, " I'm afraid I'm as likely as not to pick up some of the rubbish. I've no special knowledge of Oriental curios." " At St. Luc," said the Professor, " you impressed me as having, for an amateur, an exceptionally accurate and comprehensive acquaintance with Egyptian and Arabian art from the earliest period." (If this were so, Horace could only feel with shame what a fearful humbug he must have been.) "However, I've no wish to lay too heavy a burden on you, and, as you will see from this catalogue, I have ticked off the lois in which I am chiefly interested, and made a note of the limit to which I am prepared to bid, so you'll have no difficulty." " Very well," said Horace ; " I'll go straight to Covent Garden, and slip out and get some lunch later on." " Well, perhaps, if you don't mind. The lots I 14 THE BRASS BOTTLE. have marked seem to come on at rather frequent intervals, but don't let that consideration deter you from getting your lunch, and if you sJiould miss any- thing by not being on the spot, why, it's of no consequence, though I don't say it mightn't be a pity. In any case, you won't forget to mark what each lot fetches, and perhaps you wouldn't mind dropping me a line when you return the catalogue — or stay, could you look in some time after dinner this evening, and let me know how you got on ? — that would be better." Horace thought it would be decidedly better, and undertook to call and render an account of his steward- ship that evening. There remained the question of a deposit, should one or more of the lots be knocked down to him ; and, as he was obliged to own that he had not so much as ten pounds about him at that particular moment, the Professor extracted a note for that amount from his case, and handed it to him with the air of a benevolent person relieving a deserving object. " Don't exceed my limits," he said, " for I can't afford more just now; and mind you give Hammond your own name, not mine. If the dealers get to know I'm after the things, they'll run you up. And now, I don't think I need detain you any longer, especially as time is running on. I'm sure I can trust you to do the best you can for me. Till this evening, then." A few minutes later Horace was driving up to HORACE VENTIMOPtE RECEIVES A COMMISSION 15 Covent Garden behind the best-looking horse he could pick out. The Professor might have required from him rather more than was strictly justified by their acquaintance- ship, and taken his acquiescence too much as a matter of course — but what of that ? After all, he was Sylvia's parent. " Even with ony luck," he was thinking, " I ought to succeed in getting at least one or two of the lots he's marked ; and if I can only please him, something may come of it." And in this sanguine mood Horace entered Messrs. Hammond's well-known auction rooms. 16 THE BRASS BOTTLE. CHxVPTER II. A CHEAP LOT. In spite of the fact that it was the luncheon hour when Ventimore reached Hammond's Auction Rooms, ho found the big, skylighted gallery where the sale of the furniture and effects of the late General Colling- ham was proceeding crowded to a degree which showed that the deceased officer had some reputation as a connoisseur. The narrow green baize tables below the auctioneer's rostrum were occupied by professional dealers, one or two of them women, who sat, paper and pencil in hand, with mnch the same air of apparent apathy and real vio-ilance that may be noticed in the Casino at Monte Carlo. Around them stood a decorous and businesslike crowd, mostly dealers, of various types. On a magis- terial-looking bench sat the auctioneer, conducting the sale with a judicial impartiality and dignity which for- bade him, even in his most laudatory comments, the faintest accent of enthnsiasm. The October sunshine, striking through the glazed roof, re-gilded the tarnished gas-stars, and suftused the A CHEAP LOT. 17 dusty atmosphere with palest gold. But somehow the utter absence of excitement in the crowd, the calm, methodical tone of the auctioneer, and the occasional mournful cry of " Lot here, gentlemen ! " from the porter when any article was too large to move, all served to depress Ventimore's usually mercurial spirits. For all Horace knew, the collection as a whole miofht be of little value, but it very soon became clear that others besides Professor Futvove had singled out such gems as there were, also that the Professor had con- siderably under-rated the prices they were likely to fetch. Yentimore made his bids with all possible discretion, but time after time he found the competition for some perforated mosque lantern, engraved ewer, or ancient porcelain tile so great that his limit was soon reached, and his sole consolation was that the article eventually changed hands for sums which were very nearly double the Professor's estimate. Several dealers and brokers, despairing of a bargain that day, left, murmuring profanities ; most of those who remained ceased to take a serious interest in the proceedings, and consoled themselves with cheap wit- ticisms at every favourable occasion. The sale dragged slowly on, and, what with continual disappointment and want of food, Horace began to feel so weary that he was glad, as the crowd thinned, to get a seat at one of the green baize tables, by which time c 18 THE BRASS BOTTLE. the skylights had ah-eady changed from livid grey to slate colour in the deepening dusk. A couple of meek Burmese Buddhas had just been put up, and bore the indignity of being knocked down for nine-and-sixpence the pair with dreamy, inscru- table simpers ; Horace only w aited for the final lot marked by the Professor — an old Persian copper bowl, inlaid with silver and engraved round the rim with an inscription from Hafiz. The limit to which he was authorised to go was two pounds ten ; but, so desperately anxious was Yentimore not to return empty-handed, that he had made up his mind to bid an extra sovereign if necessary, and say nothing about it. However, the bowl was put up, and the bidding soon rose to three pounds ten, four pounds, four pounds ten, five pounds, five guineas, for which last sum it was acquired by a bearded man on Horace's right, who immediately began to regard his purchase with a more indulgent eye. Yentimore had done his best, and failed ; there was no reason now why he should stay a moment longer — and yet he sat on, from sheer fatigue and disinclination to move. " Now we come to Lot 254, gentlemen," he heard the auctioneer saying, mechanically : " a capital Egyptian mummy-case in fine con No, I beg pardon, I'm wrong. This is an article which by some mistake has A CHEAP LOT. 19 been omitted from the catalogue, though it ought to have been in it. Everything on sale to-day, gentle- men, belonged to the late General CoUingham. We'll call this No. 253rt. Antique brass bottle. Very curious." One of the porters carried the bottle in between the tables, and set it down before the dealers at the farther end with a tired nonchalance. It was an old, squat, pot-bellied vessel about two feet high, with a long thick neck, the mouth of which was closed by a sort of metal stopper or caj) ; there was no visible decoration on its sides, which were rough and pitted by some incrustation that had formed on them, and been partially scraped oif. As a piece of hric-a- hrac it certainly possessed few attractions, and there was a marked tendency to " guy " it among the more frivolous brethren. " What do you call this, sir ? " inquired one of the auctioneer, with the manner of a cheeky boy trying to get a rise out of his form-master. " Is it as ' unique ' as the others ? " " You're as well able to judge as I am," was the guarded reply. " Any one can see for himself it's not modern rubbish." "Make a pretty little ornament for the mantelpiece!" remarked a was:. " Is the top made to unscre\^-, or what, sir ? " asked a third. " Seems fixed on pretty tight." 20 THE BEASS BOTTLE. " I can't say. Probably it lias not been removed for some time." " It's a goodish weight," said the chief humorist, after handling it. " What's inside of it, sir — sardines ? " " I don't represent it as having anything inside it," said the auctioneer. " If you want to know my opinion, I think there's money in it." " 'Ow much ? " " Don't misunderstand me, gentlemen. When I say I consider there's money in it, I'm not alluding to its contents. I've no reason to believe that it contains anything. I'm merely suggesting the thing itself may be worth more than it looks." " Ah, it might be that without 'urting itself ! " " Well, well, don't let us waste time. Look upon it as a pure speculation, and make me an offer for it, some of you. Come." " Tuppence-'ap'ny ! " cried the comic man, affectiug to brace himself for a mighty effort. " Pray be serious, gentlemen. ^Ve want to get on, you know. Anything to make a start. Five shillings? It's not the value of the metal, but I'll take the bid. Six. Look at it well. It's not an article you come across every day of your lives." The bottle was still being passed round with dis- respectful raps and slaps, and it had now come to Ventimore's right-hand neighbour, who scrutinised it carefully, but made no bid. A CHEAP LOT. 21 "That's all right, you know," lie wliispered in Horace's ear. " That's good stuff, that is. If I was you, I'd 'ave that." " Seven shillings — eight— nine bid for it over there in the corner," said the auctioneer. " If you think it's so good, why don't you have it yourself?" Horace asked his neighbour. " Me ? Oh, well, it ain't exactly in my line, and getting this last lot pretty near cleaned me out. I've done for to-day, I 'ave. All the same, it is a curiosity ; dunno as I've seen a brass vawse just that shape before, and it's genuine old, though all these fellers are too ignorant to know the value of it. So I don't mind giving you the tip." Horace rose, the better to examine the top. As far as he could make out in the flickering light of one of the gas-stars, which the auctioneer had just ordered to be lit, there were half-erased scratches and triangular marks on the cap that might possibly be an inscription. If so, might there not be the means here of regaining the Professor's favour, which he felt that, as it was, he should probably forfeit, justly or not, by his ill-success ? He could hardly spend the Professor's money on it, since it was not in the catalogue, and he had no authority to bid for it, but he had a few shillings of his own to spare. Why not bid fur it on his own account as long as he could afford to do so? If 22 THE BRASS BOTTLE. he were outbid, as usual, it would not particularly matter. " Thirteen shillings," the auctioneer was saying, in his dispassionate tones. Horace caught his eye, and slightly raised his catalogue, while another man nodded at the same time. " Fourteen in two places." Horace raised his catalogue again. " I won't go beyond fifteen," he thought. "Fifteen. It's against you, sir. Any advance on fifteen ? Sixteen — this very quaint old Oriental bottle going for only sixteen shillings." " After all," thought Horace, " I don't mind any- thing under a pound for it." And he bid seventeen shillings. " Eighteen," cried his rival, a short, cheery, cherub-faced little dealer, whose neighbours adjured him to " sit quiet like a good little boy and not waste his pocket-money." "Nineteen!" said Horace. "Pound!" answered the cherubic man. " A pound only bid for this grand brass vessel," said the auctioneer, indifferently. " All done at a pound ? " Horace thought another shilling or two would not ruin him, and nodded. " A ouinea. For the last time. You'll lose it, sir," said the auctioneer to the little man. " Go on. Tommy. Don't you be beat. Spring another bob on it. Tommy," his friends advised him ironically; but Tommy shook his head, with the air A CHEAP LOT. 23 of a man who knows wlien to draw the line. " One guinea — and that's not half its value ! Gentleman on my left," said the auctioneer, more in sorrow than in anser— and the brass bottle became Yentimore's property. He paid for it, and, since he could hardly walk home nursing a large metal bottle without attracting an inconvenient amount of attention, directed that it should be sent to his lodgings at Yincent Square. But when he was out in the fresh air, walking west- ward to his club, he found himself wondering more and more what could have possessed him to throw away a guinea — when he had few enough for legi- timate expenses — on an article of such exceedingly problematical value. 24 THE BRASS BOTTLE. CHxVPTER 111. AN UNEXrECTED OPENING. Yentimore made his way to Cottesmore Gardens that evening in a highly inconsistent, not to say chaotic, state of mind. The thought that he would presently see Sylvia again made his blood course quicker, while he was fully determined to say no more to her than civility demanded. At one moment he was blessing Professor Futvoye for his happy thought in making use of him ; at another he was bitterly recognising that it would have been better for his peace of mind if he had been left alone. Sylvia and her mother had no desire to see more of him ; if they had, they would have asked him to come before this. No doubt they would tolerate him now for the Professor's sake ; but who would not rather be ignored than tolerated ? The more often he saw Sylvia the more she would make his heart ache with vain longing— whereas he was getting almost reconciled to her indifference ; he would very soon be cured if he didn't see her. Why should he see her? He need not go in at all. AN UNEXPECTED OPENING. 25 He had merely to leave the catalogue with his com- pliments, and the Professor would learn all he wanted to know. On second thoughts he must go in — if only to return the bank-note. But he would ask to see the Pro- fessor in private. IMost probably he would not be invited to join his wife and daughter, but if he were, he could make some excuse. They might think it a little odd — a little discourteous, perhaps; but they would be too relieved to care much about that. When he got to Cottesmore Gardens, and was actually at the door of the Futvoyes' house, one of the neatest and demurest in that retired and irreproach- able quarter, he began to feel a craven hope that the. Professor might be out, in which case he need only leave the catalogue and write a letter when he got home, reporting his non- success at the sale, and returning the note. And, as it happened, the Professor was out, and Horace was not so glad as he thought he should be. The maid told him that the ladies were in the drawing- room, and seemed to take it for granted that he was comincr in, so he had himself announced. He would not stay long — just long enough to explain his busi- ness there, and make it clear that he had no wish to force his acquaintance upon them. He found Mrs. Futvoye in the farther part of the pretty double draw- ing-room, writing letters, and Sylvia, more dazzlingly 20 THE BRASS BOTTLE. fair than ever in some sort of gauzy black frock with a heliotrojje sasli and a buncli of Parma violets on her breast, was comfortably established with a book in the front room, and seemed surprised, if not resentful, at having to disturb lierself. " I must apologise," he began, with an involuntary stiffness, " for calling at this very unceremonious time ; but the fact is, the Professor " "I know all about it," interrupted Mrs. Futvoye, brusquely, while her shrewd, light-grey eyes took him in with a cool stare that was humorously observant without being aggressive. " We heard how shamefully my husband abused your good-nature, lleally, it was too bad of him to ask a busy man like you to put aside his work and go and spend a whole day at that stupid auction ! " " Oil, I'd nothing particular to do. I can't call myself a busy man — unfortunately," said Horace, with that frankness which scorns to conceal what other people know perfectly well already. " Ah, well, it's very nice of you to make light of it ; but he ought not to have done it — after so short an acquaintance, too. And to make it worse, he has had to go out unexpectedly this evening, but he'll be back before very long, if you don't mind waiting." "There's really no need to wait," said Horace, " because this catalogue will tell him everything, and, as the particular things he wanted went for much AN UNEXPECTED OPENING. 27 more than he thought, I wasn't able to get any of them." "I'm sure I'm very glad of it," said Mrs. Futvoye, " for his study is crammed with odds and ends as it is, and I don't want the whole house to look like a museum or an antiquity shop. I'd all the trouble in the world to persuade him that a great gaudy gilded mummy-case was not quite the thing for a drawing- room. But, please sit down, Mv. Yentimore." " Thanks," stammered Horace, " but — but I mustn't stay. If you will tell the Professor how sorry I was to miss him, and — and give him back this note which he left with me to cover any deposit, I — I won't interrupt you any longer." He was, as a rule, imperturbable in most social emergencies, but just now he was seized with a wild desire to escape, which, to his infinite mortification, made him behave like a shy schoolboy. "Nonsense!" said Mrs. Futvoye ; "I am sure my husband would be most annoyed if we didn't keep you till he came." " I really ought to go," he declared, wistfully enough. " We mustn't tease Mr. Yentimore to stay, mother, when he so evidently wants to go," said Sylvia, cruelly. " Well, I won't detain you — at least, not long. I wonder if you would mind posting a letter for me as you pass the pillar-box ? I've almost finished it, and 28 THE BRASS BOTTLE. it ought to go to-night, and my iimie it has altered your opinion of me." "It has," replied the Professor, in an altered tone; "it has indeed. Yours is a sad case— a very sad case." " It's rather awkward, isn't it ? Rut I don't mind so long as you understand. And you'll tell Sylvia — as much as you think proper ? " " Yes— yes ; I must tell Sylvia." " And I may go on seeing her as usual ? " "PEUSICOS ODI, PUER, APPARATUS." 141 " Well — will you be guided by my advice — the advice of one who has lived more than double your years r " Certainly," said Horace. " Then, if I were you, I should go away at once, for a complete change of air and scene." " That's impossible, sir — you forget my work ! " " Never mind vour work, mv boy : leave it for a while, try a sea- voyage, go round the world, get quite away from these associations." '' Ijiit I might come across the Jinnee again," ob- jected Horace ; " hes travelling, as I told you." " Yes, yes, to be sure. Still, I should go away. Consult any doctor, and he'll tell you the same thing." " Consult any Good God ! " cried Horace ; " I see what it is — yuu think I'm mad ! " '* No, no, my dear boy," said the Professor, sooth- ingly, " not mad — nothing of the sort ; perhaps your mental equilibrium is just a trifle— it's quite intelligible. You see, the sudden turn in your professional pros- pects, coupled with your engagement to Sylvia— I've known stronger minds than yours thrown off their balance— temporarily, of course, quite temporarily— by less than that." " You believe I am suffering from delusions?" " I don't say that. I think you may see ordinary things in a distorted light." 142 THE BRASS BOTTLE. "Anyhow, you don't believe there really was a Jinnee inside that bottle ? " " Remember, you yourself assured me at the time you opened it that you found nothing whatever insido it. Isn't it more credible that you were rl<,dit then than that you should be right now ? " "AVell," said Horace, "you saw all those bluck slaves; you ate, or tried to eat, that unutterably beastly banquet ; you heard that music — and then there was the dancing-girl. And this hall we're in, this robe I've got on — are tlieij delusions ? Because if they are, I'm afraid you will have to admit that you re mad too." " Ingeniously put," said the Professor. " I fear it is unwise to argue with you. Still, I will venture to assert that a strong imagination like yours, over- heated and saturated with Oriental ideas — to which I fear I may have contributed — is not incapable of un- consciously assisting in its own deception. In other words, I think that you may have j^rovided all this yourself from various quarters without any clear re- collection of the fact." " That's very scientific and satisfactory as far as it goes, my dear Professor," said Horace ; " but there's one piece of evidence which may upset your theory — and that's this brass bottle." "If your reasoning powers were in their normal condition," said the Professor, compassionately, "' you "PERSICOS ODI, PUER, APPARATUS/' 143 would see that the mere production of an empty bottle can be no proof of what it contained — or, for that matter, that it ever contained anything at all." " Oh, I see that," said Horace ; " but this bottle has a stopper with what you yourself admit to be an in- scription of some sort. Suppose that inscription con- firms my story — what then ? All I ask you to do is to make it out for yourself before you decide that I'm either a liar or a lunatic." " I warn you," said the Professor, " that if you are trusting to my being unable to decipher the inscription, you are deceiving yourself. You represent that tliis bottle belongs to the period of Solomon — that is, about a thousand years B.C. Probably you are not aware that the earliest specimens of Oriental metal-work in existence are not older than the tenth century of our era. But, granting that it is as old as you allege, I shall certainly be able to read any inscription there may be on it. I have made out clay tablets in Cunei- form which were certaiuly written a thousand years before Solomon's time." " So much the better," said Horace. " I'm as certain as I can be that, whatever is written on that lid — whether it's Phcenician, or Cuneiform, or anything else — must have some reference to a Jinnee confined in the bottle, or at least bear the seal of Solomon. But there the thing is— examine it for yourself." " Not now," said the Professor ; " it's too late, and 144 THE BRASS COTTLE. the light here is not strong enough. Hut I t<-ll yuii what I will do. I'll take this stopper thing homo with me, and examine it carefnlly to-morrow — on one condition." " You have only to name it," saiil Horace. "My condition is, that if I, and ono or two otlior Orientalists to whom I may submit it, come to the conclusion that there is no real inscription at all — or, if any, that a date and meaning must be assigned to it totally inconsistent with your story — you will accept our finding and acknowledge that you have been under a delusion, and dismiss the whole aftair from your mind." "Oh, I don't mind agreeing to that" said Horace, " particularly as it's my only chance." " Very well, then," said the Professor, as he removed the metal cap and put it in his pocket ; " you may depend upon hearing from me in a day or two. ^lean- time, my boy," he continued, almost aftectionately, "why not try a short bicycle tour somewhere, hey? You're a cyclist, I know— anything but allow yourself to dwell on Oriental subjects." " It's not so easy to avoid dwelling on them as you think ! " said Horace, with rather a dreary laugh. "And I fancy. Professor, that— whether you like it or not— you'll have to believe in that Jinnee of mine sooner or later." " I can scarcely conceive," replied the Professor, who "PERSICOS ODI, PUER, APPARATUS." 145 was by this time at the outer door, "any degree of evidence which could succeed in convincing me that your brass bottle had ever contained an Arabian Jinnee. However, I shall endeavour to preserve an open mind on the subject. Good evening to you." As soon as he was alone, Horace paced up and down his deserted halls in a state of simmerino: ra^-e as he thought how eagerly he had looked forward to his little dinner-party ; how intimate and delightful it might have been, and what a monstrous and prolonged nightmare it had actually proved. Aud at the end of it there he was — in a fantastic, impossible dwelling, deserted by every one, his chances of setting himself right with Sylvia hanging on the slenderest thread ; unknown difficulties and complications threatening him from every side ! He owed all this to Fakrash. Yes, that incorrigibly grateful Jinnee, with his antiquated notions and his high-flown professions, had contrived to ruin him more disastrously than if he had been his bitterest foe ! Ah ! if he could be face to face with him once more — if only for five minutes — he would be restrained by no false delicacy : he would tell him fairly and plainly what a meddling, blundering old fool he was. But Fakrash had taken his flight for ever : there were no means of calling him back — nothius: to be done now but go to bed and sleep — if he could ! Exasperated by the sense of his utter helplessness, L 146 THE BRASS BOTTLE. Ventimore went to tlie arch wljich led to Ijis bed- chamber and drew the curtain back ^\ith a furious puU. And just within the archway, standing erect with folded arms and the smile of fatuous benignity whicli Ventimore was beginning to know and dread, was the form of Fakrash-el-Aamash, the Jinnee ! ( 1^7 ) CHAPTER X. NO TLACE LIKE HOME ! " MxY thy head long survive ! " said Fakrash, by way of salutation, as he stepped through the archway. " You're very good," said Horace, whose anger had almost evaporated in the relief of the Jinnee's unex- pected return, " but I don't think any head can survive this sort of thing long." " Art thou content with this dwelling I have pro- vided for thee ? " inquired the Jinnee, glancing around the stately hall with perceptible complacency. It would have been positively brutal to say how very far from contented he felt, so Horace could only mumble that he had never been lodged like that before in all his life. '•' It is far below thy deserts," Fakrash observed graciously. "And were thy friends amazed at the manner of their entertainment ? " " They were," said Horace. " A sure method of preser^•ing friends is to feast them with liberalitv," remarked the Jinnee. 148 THE BRASS BOTTLE. This was rather more tliau Horace's temper could stand. " You were kind enough to provide my friends with such a feast," he said, " that they'll never come here again." " How so ? Were not the meats choice and abound- ing in fatness ? Was not the wine sweet, and the sherbet like unto perfumed snow ? " " Oh, everything was— er — as nice as possible," said Horace. " Couldn't have been better." "Yet thou sayest that thy friends will return no more — for what reason ? " *' Well, you see," explained Horace, reluctantly, " there's such a thing as doing people too well. I mean, it isn't everybody that appreciates Arabian cooking. But they might have stood that. It was the dancing-girl that did for me." "I commanded that a houri, lovelier than the full moon, and graceful as a young gazelle, should appear for the delight of thy guests." " She came," said Horace, gloomilv. " Acquaint me with that which hath occurred— for I perceive plainly that something hath fallen out con- trary to thy desires." " Well," said Horace, " if it had been a bachelor party, there would have been no harm in the houri ; but, as it happened, two of my guests were ladies, and they— well, they not unnaturally put a wrong construction on it all." NO FLACE LIKE HOME ! 149 " Verily," exclaimed the Jinnee, " thy words are totally incomprehensible to me." "I don't know what the custom may be in Arabia," said Horace, "but with us it is not usual for a man to engage a houri to dance after dinner to amuse the lady he is proposing to marry. It's the kind of attention she'd be most unlikely to appreciate." " Then was one of thy guests the damsel whom thou art seeking to marry ? " " She was," said Horace, " and the other two were her father and mother. From which you may imagine that it was not altogether agreeable for me when your gazelle threw herself at my feet and hugged my knees and declared that I was the light of her eyes. Of course, it all meant nothing — it's probably the conven- tional behaviour for a gazelle, and I'm not reflecting upon her in the least. But, in the circumstances, it teas compromising." " I thought," said Fakrash, " that thou assured'st me that thou wast not contracted to any damsel ? " " I think I only said that there was no one whom I would trouble you to procure as a wife for me," replied Horace ; " I certainly was engaged — though, after this evening, my engagement is at an end — unless . . . that reminds me, do you happen to know whether there really ivas an inscription on the seal of your bottle, and what it said ? " 150 THE BRASS BOTTLE. "I know naught of any inscription," said the Jinnee ; " bring me the seal tliat I may see it." "I haven't got it hy me at tliis moment," said Horace; "I lent it to my friend— tlie father of this young lady I told you of. Y..u sec, Mr. I'akrasli, you got me into— I mean, I was in such a hole over this affair that I was obliged to make a cleati breast of it to him. And he wouldn't believe it, so it struidv me tliat there might be an inscription of some sort on tlie seal, saying who you were, and why Solomon had you con- fined in the bottle. Then the Professor would bo obliged to admit that there's something in my story." "Truly, I wonder at thee and at the smallness of thy penetration," the Jinnee commented ; " for if there were indeed any writing upon this seal, it is not possible that one of thy race should be able to decipher it." " Oh, I beg your pardon," said Horace ; " Professor Futvoye is an Oriental scholar ; he can make out any inscription, no matter how many thousands of years old it may be. If anything's there, he'll decipher it. The question is whether anything is there." The effect of this speech on Fakrash was as unex- pected as it w^as inexplicable : tlie Jinnee's features, usually so mild, began to work convulsively until they became terrible to look at, and suddenly, with a fierce howl, he shot up to nearly double his ordinary stature. " thou of little sense and breeding ! " he cried, in a loud voice ; " how earnest thou to deliver the bottle NO TLACE LIKE HOME ! 151 in which I was confined into the hands of this learned man ? " Ventimore, startled as he was, did not lose his self- possession. " My dear sir," he said, " I did not suppose you could have any further use for it. And, as a matter of fact, I didn't give Professor Futvoye the bottle — which is over there in the corner — but merely the stopper. I wish you wouldn't tower over me like that — it gives me a crick in the neck to talk to you. Why on earth should you make such a fuss about my lending the seal ; what possible difference can it make to you even if it does confirm my story ? And it's of immense importance to me that the Professor should believe I told the truth." " I spoke in haste," said the Jinnee, slowly resuming his normal size, and looking slightly ashamed of his recent outburst as well as uncommonly foolish. " The bottle truly is of no value ; and as for the stopper, since it is but lent, it is no great matter. If there be any legend upon the seal, perchance this learned man of whom thou speakest will by this time have de- ciphered it ? " " No," said Horace, " he won't tackle it till to- morrow. And it's as likely as not that when he does he won't find any reference to you — and I shall be up a taller tree than ever ! " " Art thou so desirous that he should receive proof that thy story is true ? " 152 THE BRASS BOTTLE. " Why, of course I am ! Haven't I been savintr so all this time ? " " Who can satisfy him so surely as I ? " " You ! " cried Horace. " Do you mean to say you really would? Mr. Fakrash, you are an (thl l>rick ! Tliat would be the very thinfj ! " "There is naught," said tlie Jinnee, smilin;,' in- dulgently, " that I would not do to iiromote tliv wcllare, for thou hast rendered me inestimable service. Ac- quaint me therefore with the abode of this sage, and I will present myself before him, and if haply he should find no inscription upon the seal, or its purport should be hidden from him, then will I convince liim that thou hast spoken the truth and no lie." Horace very willingly gave him the Professor's address. "Only don't drop in on him to-night, vou know," he thought it prudent to add, " or you might startle him. Call any time after breakfast to-morrow, and you'll find him in." " To-night," said Fakrash, " I return to pursue my search after Suleyman, on whom be peace. For not yet have I found him." " If you will try to do so many things at once," said Horace, " I don't see how you can expect much results." " 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 hep the Courts " NO TLACE LIKE HOME ! 153 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, tlie 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 oifended 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. 154 THE BRASS BOTTLE. "Possibly," said Horace, "it's narrow-minded of tliem— but that's the way they look at it. They've actually left rather than stay here. And it's their house — not mine." " If they abandon this dwellino^, thou wilt remain in the more secure possession." " Oh, shall I, though ? They'll go to law aiid have me turned out, and I shall have to pay ruinous damages into the bargain. So, you see, what you intended as a kindness will only bring me bad luck." "Come— without more words— to the statement of thy request," said Fakrash, " for I am in haste." " All I want you to do," replied Horace, in some anxiety as to what the effect of his request would be, " is to put everything here back to wliat it was before. It won't take you a minute." " Of a truth," exclaimed Fakrash, "to bestow a favour upon thee is but a thankless undertaking, for not once, • but twice, hast thou rejected my benefits — and now, behold, I am at a loss to devise means to gratify thee ! " " I know I've abused your good nature," said Horace ; " but if you'll only do this, and then convince the Professor that my story is true, I shall be more tlian satisfied. I'll never ask another favour of you ! " " My benevolence towards thee hath no bounds — as thou shalt see ; and I can deny thee nothing, for truly thou art a worthy and temperate young man. Fare- well, then, and be it according to thy desire." NO PLACE LIKE HOME ! 155 He raised his arms above his Lead, and shot up like a rocket towards the lofty dome, which split asunder to let him pass. Horace, as he gazed after him, had a momentary glimpse of deep blue sky, with a star or two that seemed to be hurrying through the trans- 2iarent opal scud, before the roof closed in once more. Then came a low, rumbling sound, witli a shock like a mild earthquake : the slender pillars swayed under their horseshoe arches ; the big hanging-lanterns went out ; the walls narrowed, and the floor heaved and rose — till Ventimore found himself up in his own familiar sitting-room once more, in the dark. Outside he could see the great square still shrouded in grey haze — the street lamps were flickering in the wind ; a belated reveller was beguiling his homeward way by rattling his stick against the railings as he passed. Inside the room everything was exactly as before, and Horace found it difficult to believe that a few minutes earlier he had been standing on that same site, but twenty feet or so below his present level, in a spacious blue-tiled hall, with a domed ceiling and gaudy pillared arches. But he was very far from regretting his short-lived splendour ; he burnt with shame and resentment when- ever he thought of that nightmare banquet, which was so unlike the quiet, unpretentious little dinner he had looked forward to. However, it was over now, and it was useless to worry 15G THE BRASS COTTLE. himself about what could not be helped. Besides, for- tunately, there was no great harm done : the Jinnee had been brought to see his mistake, and, to do him justice, had shown himself willing enough to put it right. He had promised to go and see the rr(jfessor next day, and the result of the interview could not fail to be satisfactory. And after this, Ventimore thouglit, Fakrash would have the sense and good-feeling not to interfere in his affairs again. Meanwhile he could sleej) now with a mind free from his worst anxieties, and he went to his room in a spirit of intense thaukfulness that he had a Christian bed to sleep in. He took off his gorgeous robes — the only things that remained to prove to him that the events of that evening had been no delusion — and locked them in his wardrobe with a sense of relief that he would never be required to wear them again, and his last conscious thought before he fell asleep was the com- forting reflection that, if there were any barrier between Sylvia and himself, it would be removed in the course of a very few more hours. ( 157 ) CHAPTER XL A fool's paradise. Ventimore found next morning that liis bath and shaving-water had been brought up, from which he inferred, quite correctly, that his landlady must have returned. Secretly he was by no means looking forward to his next interview with her, but she ajjpeared with his bacon and coffee in a spirit so evidently chastened that he saw that he would have no difficulty so far as she was concerned. "I'm sure, Mr. Yentimore, sir," she began, apolo- getically, " I don't know what you must have thought of me and Eapkin last night, leaving the house like we did ! " " It was extremely inconvenient," said Horace, " and not at all what I should have expected from you. But possibly you had some reason for it ? " " Why, sir," said Mrs. Eapkin, running her hand nervously along the back of a chair, " the fact is, some- thing come over me, and come over Eapkin, as we 158 THE IJKASS BOTTLE. couldu't stop here aiiotbcr minute uut if it was ever so." " Ah ! " said Horace, raising his eyebrows, " restless- ness—eh, Mrs. Ilapkin? Awkward that it should come on just then, though, wasn't it ? " " It was the look of the place, somehow," said Mrs. Kapkin. " If you'll believe me, sir, it was all changed li^Q — nothing in it the same from top to bottom ! " " Keally ? " said Horace. " I don't notice any diller- ence myself." "No more don't I, sir, not by daylight; but last night it was all domes and harches and marble fount- ings let into the floor, with parties moving about down- stairs all silent and as black as your hat— wliich IJapkin saw them as well as what I did." " From the state your husband was in last night," said Horace, " I should say he was capable of seeing anything — and double of most things." " I won't deny, sir, that Eapkin mayn't have been quite hisself, as a very little upsets him after he's spent an afternoon studying the papers and what-not at the libery. But I see the niggers too, ^Ir. Yentimore, and no one can say I ever take more than is good for me." " I don't suggest that for a moment, Mrs. Eapkin," said Horace ; " only, if the house was as you describe last night, how do you account for it's being all right this morning ? " Mrs. Eapkin in her embarrassment was reduced to A FOOL'S PARADISE. 159 folding her aproR iuto small pleats. " It's not fur me to say, sir," she replied, " but, if I was to give my opinion, it would be as them parties as called 'ere on camels the other day was at the bottom of it." "I shouldn't wonder if you were right, Mrs. Eap- kin," said Horace, blandly; "you see, you had been exerting yourself over the cooking, and no doubt were in an over-excited state, and, as you say, those camels had taken hold of your imagination until you were ready to see anything that Kapkin saw, and he was ready to see anything you did. It's not at all un- common. Scientific people, I believe, call it ' Collective Hallucination.' " " Law, sir ! " said the good woman, considerably impressed by this diagnosis, " you don't mean to say I had tliat ? I was always fanciful from a girl, and could see things in coffee-grounds as nobody else could — but I never was took like that before. And to think of me leaving my dinner half cooked, and you expecting your young lady and her pa and ma ! Well, there, now, I am sorry. Whatever did you do, sir ? " " We managed to get food of sorts from somewhere," said Horace, " but it was most uncomfortable for me, and I trust, Mrs. Kapkin — I sincerely trust that it will not occur again." " That I'll answer for it shan't, sir. And you won't take no notice to Kapkin, sir, will you? Though it was his seein' the niggers and that as put it into my 160 THE BRASS BOTTLE. 'ed; but I 'ave spoke to him pretty severe already, and he's truly sorry and ashamed for forgetting hisself as he did." "Very well, Mrs. Eapkin," said Horace; "we will understand that last night's — hem — rather painful experience is not to be alluded to again — on either side." He felt sincerely thankful to have got out of it so easily, for it was impossible to say what gossip might not have been set on foot if the Eapkins had not been brought to see the advisability of reticence on the subject. " There's one more thing, sir, I wished for to speak to you about," said Mrs. Eapkin ; " that great brass vawse as you bought at an oction some time back. I dunno if you remember it ? " " I remember it," said Horace. " Well, what about it?" " Why, sir, I found it in the coal-cellar this morn- ing, and I thought I'd ask if that was where you wished it kep' in future. For, though no amount o' polish could make it what I call a tasty thing, it's neither hornimental nor yet useful where it is at present." "Oh," said Horace, rather relieved, for he had an ill-defined dread from her opening words that the bottle might have been misbehaving itself in some way. " Put it wherever you please, Mrs. Eapkin ; do A FOOL'S PARADISE. 161 whatever you like with it — so long as I don't see the thing again ! " " Very good, sir ; I on'y thought I'd ask the ques- tion," said Mrs. Kapkin, as she closed the door upon herself. Altogether, Horace walked to Great Cloister Street that morning in a fairly cheerful mood and amiably disposed, even towards the Jinnee. With all his many faults, he was a thoroughly good-natured old devil — very superior in every way to the one the Arabian Nights' fisherman found in his bottle. " Ninety -nine Jinn out of a hundred," thought Horace, " would have turned nasty on finding benefit after benefit 'declined with thanks.' But one good point in Fakrash is that he does take a hint in good part, and, as soon as he can be made to see where he's wrong, he's always ready to set things right. And he thoroughly understands now that these Oriental dodges of his won't do nowadays, and that when people see a penniless man suddenly wallowing in riches they naturally want to know how he came by them. I don't suppose he will trouble me much in future. If he should look in now and then, I must put up with it. Perhaps, if I suggested it, he wouldn't mind coming in some form that would look less outlandish. If he would get himself up as a banker, or a bishop — the Bishop of Bagdad, say — I shouldn't care how often he called. Only, I can't have him coming down the chimney in M 1G2 THE BKASS BOTTLE. either capacity. But he'll see that himself. And he's done me one real service— I mustn't let myself forget that. He sent me old Wackerbath. By the way, I wonder if he's seen my designs yet, and what he thinks of them." He was at his table, engaged in jotting down some rough ideas for the decoration of the reception-rooms in the projected house, when Beevor came in. " I've got nothing doing just now," he said ; " so I thought I'd come in and have a squint at those plans of yours, if they're forward enough to be seen yet." Ventimore had to explain that even the imperfect method of examination proposed was not possible, as he had despatched the drawings to his client the night before. " Phew ! " said Beevor ; " that's sharp work, isn't it ? " " I don't know. I've been sticking hard at it for over a fortnight." " Well, you might have given me a chance of seeing what you've made of it. I let you see all my work ! " " To tell you the honest truth, old fellow, I wasn't at all sure you'd like it, and I was afraid you'd put me out of conceit with what I'd done, and Wacker- bath was in a frantic hurry to have the plans — so there it was." " And do you think he'll be satisfied with them ? " " He ought to be. I don't like to be cock-sure, but I believe — I really do believe — that I've given him A FOOL'S PARADISE. 163 rather mure than lie expected. It's going to be a devilish good house, though I say it myself." " Something new-fangled and fantastic, eh ? Well, he mayn't care about it, you know. When you've had my experience, you'll realise that a client is a rum bird to satisfy." " I shall satisfy my old bird," said Horace, gaily. " He'll have a cage he can hop about in to his heart's content." " You're a clever chap enough," said Beevor ; " but to carry a big job like this through you want one thing — and that's ballast." " ]^[ot while you heave yours at my head ! Come, old fellow, you aren't really riled because I sent off those plans without showing them to you? I shall soon have them back, and then you can pitch into 'em as much as you please. Seriously, though, I shall want all the help you can spare when I come to the completed designs." " 'Um," said Beevor, " you've got along very well alone so far — at least, by your own account ; so I dare say you'll be able to manage without me to the end. Only, you know," he added, as he left the room, "you haven't won your spurs yet. A fellow isn't necessarily a Gilbert Scott, or a Norman Shaw, or a Waterhouse just because he happens to get a sixty- thousand pound job the first go off! " "Poor old Beevor!" thought Horace, repentantly. 1G4 THE BRASS BOTTLE. " I've put his back up. I might just as well have shown him the plans, after all ; it wouldn't have hurt me and it would have pleased him. Never mind, I'll make my peace with him after lunch. I'll ask him to give me his idea for a— no, hang it all, even friendship has its limits ! " He returned from lunch to hear what sounded like an altercation of some sort in his office, in wliich, as he neared his door, Beevor's voice was distinctly- audible. " ]My dear sir," he was saying, " I have already told you that it is no affair of mine." "But I ask you, sir, as a brother architect," said another voice, " whether you consider it professional or reasonable ? " " As a brother architect," replied Beevor, as A'enti- more opened the d( )or, " I would rather be excused from giving an opinion. . . . Ah, here is Mr. Venti- more himself." Horace entered, to find himself confronted by l^Ir. Wackerbath, whose face was purple and whose white whiskers were bristling with rage. "So, sir!" he began. " So, sir ! " and choked ignominiously. " There appears to have been some misunderstanding, my dear Ventimore," explained Beevor, with a studious correctness which was only a shade less offensive than open triumph. " I think I'd better leave you and this gentleman to talk it over quietly." A FOOL'S PARADISE. 165 " Quietly ! " exclaimed Mr. Wackerbath, with an apoplectic snort ; " quietly I ! " " I've no idea what you are so excited about, sir," said Horace. " Perhaps you will explain ? " " Explain ! " Mr. Wackerbath gasped ; " why — no, if I speak just now, I shall be ill : you tell him," he added, waving a plump hand in Beevor's direction. " I'm not in possession of all the facts," said Beevor, smoothly ; " but, so far as I can gather, this gentle- man thinks that, considering the importance of the work he intrusted to your hands, you have given less time to it than he might have expected. As I have told him, that is a matter which does not concern me, and which he must discuss with you." So saying, Beevor retired to his own room, and shut the door with the same irreproachable discretion, which conveyed that he was not in the least surprised, but was too much of a gentleman to show it. " Well, Mr. Wackerbath," began Horace, when they were alone, " so you're disappointed with the house ? " "Disappointed!" said Mr. Wackerbath, furiously. *' I am disgusted, sir, disgusted ! " Horace's heart sank lower still ; had he deceived himself after all, then ? Had he been nothing but a conceited fool, and — most galling thought of all — had Beevor judged him only too accurately ? And yet, no, he could not believe it — he knew his work was good ! " This is plain speaking with a vengeance," he said ; 166 THE BRASS BOTTLE. " I'm sorry you're dissatisfied. I did my best to carry out your instructions." " Oh, you did ? " sputtered Mr. Wackerbath. " That's what you call— but go on, sir, ^o on ! " "I got it done as quickly as possible," continued Horace, " because I understood you wished no time to be lost." " No one can accuse you of dawdling over it. AVhat I should like to know is how the devil you managed to o-et it done in the time ? " " I worked incessantly all day and every day," said Horace. " That's how I managed it — and this is all the thanks I get for it ! " "Thanks?" Mr. Wackerbath well-nigh howled. "You — you insolent young charlatan; you expect thanks ! " "Now look here, Mr. Wackerbath," said Horace, whose own temper was getting a little frayed, " I'm not accustomed to being treated like this, and I don't intend to submit to it. Just tell me — in as moderate language as you can command — what you object to." " I object to the whole damned thing, sir ! I mean, I repudiate the entire concern. It's the work of a raving lunatic — a place that no English gentleman, sir, with any self-respect or — ah ! — consideration for his reputation and position in the county, could consent to occupy for a single hour ! " " Oh," said Horace, feeling deathly sick, " in that A FOOL'S PAEADISE. 167 case it is useless, of course, to suggest any modi- fications." " Absolutely ! " said Mr. Wackerbath. " Yery well, then ; there's no more to be said," re- plied Horace. " You will have no difficulty in finding an architect who will be more successful in realising your intentions. Mr. Beevor, the gentleman you met just now," he added, with a touch of bitterness, " would probably be just your man. Of course I retire alto- gether. And really, if any one is the sufferer over this, I fancy it's myself. I can't see how you are any the worse." " Not any the worse ? " cried Mr. Y^'ackerbath, " when the infernal place is built ! " " Built ! " echoed Horace, feebly. " I tell you, sir, I saw it with my own eyes driving to the station this morning ; my coachman and foot- man saw it ; my wife saw it — damn it, sir, we all saw it ! " Then Horace understood. His indefatigable Jinnee had been at work again ! Of course, for Fakrash it must have been what he would term " the easiest of affairs" — especially after a glance at the plans (and Yentimore remembered that the Jinnee had surprised him at work upon them, and even requested to have them explained to him) — to dispense with contractors and bricklayers and carpenters, and construct the entire building in the course of a single night. 168 THE BRASS BOTTLE. It was a generous and spirited action — but, particu- larly now that the original designs had been found faulty and rejected, it placed the unfortunate architect in a most invidious position. "Well, sir," said Mr. Wackerbath, with elaborate irony, " I presume it is you whom I have to thank for improving my land by erecting this precious palace on it ? " « I — I " began Horace, utterly broken down ; and then he saw, with emotions that may be imagined, the Jinnee himself, in his green robes, standing im- mediately behind Mr. Wackerbath. "Greeting to ye," said Fakrash, coming forward with his smile of amiable cunning. "If I mistake not," he added, addressing the startled estate-agent, who had jumped visibly, "thou art the merchant for whom my son here," and he laid a hand on Horace's shrinking shoulder, " undertook to construct a mansion ? " " I am," said Mr. Wackerbath, in some mystification. "Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Yentimore, senior t " No, no," put in Horace ; " no relation. He's a sort of informal partner." "Hast thou not found him an architect of divine gifts ? " inquired the Jinnee, beaming with pride. "Is not the palace that he hath raised for thee by his transcendent accomplishments a marvel of A FOOL'S PARADISE. 169 beauty and stateliness, and one that Sultans might envy r " No, sir ! " shouted the infuriated Mr. Wackerbath ; " since you ask my opinion, it's nothing of the sort ! It's a ridiculous tom-fool cross between the palm- house at Kew and the Brighton Pavilion ! There's no billiard-room, and not a decent bedroom in the house. I've been all over it, so I ought to know ; and as for drainage, there isn't a sign of it. And he has the brass — ah, I should say, the unblushing effrontery — to call that a country house ! " Horace's dismay was curiously shot with relief. The Jinnee, who was certainly very far from being a genius except by courtesy, had taken it upon himself to erect the palace according to his own notions of Arabian domestic luxury — and Horace, taught by bitter experience, could sympathise to some extent with his unfortunate client. On the other hand, it was balm to his smarting self-respect to find that it was not his own plans, after all, which had been found so preposterous ; and, by some obscure mental process, which I do not propose to explain, he became recon- ciled, and almost grateful, to the officious Fakrash. And then, too, he was his Jinnee, and Horace had no intention of letting him be bullied by an outsider. "Let me explain, 3Ir. Wackerbath," he said. " Personally I've had nothing to do with this. This gentleman, wishing to spare me the trouble, has taken 170 THE BRASS BOTTLE. upon himself to build your house for you, uitliout consulting either of us, and, from what I know of his powers in that direction, I've no doubt that— that it's a devilish fine place, in its way. Anyhow, we make no charge for it— he presents it to you as a free o-ift. Why not accept it as such and make the best of it ? " « Make the best of it ? " stormed Mr. Wackerbath. " Stand by and see the best site in three counties defaced by a jimcrack IMoorish nightmare like that ! Why, they'll call it ' Wackerbath's Folly,' sir. I shall be the laughing-stock of tlie neighbourhood. I can't live in the beastly building. I couldn't afford to keep it up, and I won't have it cumbering my land. Do you hear ? / ivon't ! I'll go to law, cost me what it may, and compel you and your Arabian friend there to jjull the thing down. I'll take the case up to the House of Lords, if necessary, and fight you as long as I can stand ! " " As long as thou canst stand ! " repeated Fakrash, gently. " That is a long time truly, thou litigious one! ... On all fours, ungrateful dog that thou art!" he cried, with an abrupt and entire change of manner, "and crawl henceforth for the remainder of thy days. I, Fakrash-el-Aamash, command thee ! " It was both painful and grotesque to see the portly and intensely respectable Mr. Wackerbath suddenly drop forward on his hands while desperately striving A FOOL'S PARADISE. 171 to preserve his dignity. "How dare you, sir?" he almost barked, •' how dare you, I say ? Are you aware that I could summon you for this ? Let me up. I insist upon getting up ! " " contemptible in aspect ! " replied the Jinnee, throwing open the door. " Begone to thy kennel." " I won't ! I can't ! " whimpered the unhappy man. " How do you expect me — me ! — to cross Westminster Bridge on all fours ? What will the officials think at Waterloo, where I have been known and respected for years ? How am I to face my family in — in this position ? Do, for mercy's sake, let me get up ! " Horace had been too shocked and startled to sj)eak before, but now humanity, coupled with disgust for the Jinnee's high-handed methods, compelled him to in- terfere. "Mr. Fakrash," he said, "this has gone far enough. Unless you stop tormenting this unfortunate gentleman, I've done with you." " Never," said Fakrash. " He hath dared to abuse my palace, which is far too sumptuous a dwelling for such a son of a burnt dog as he. Therefore, I will make his abode to be in the dust for ever." " But I doiit find fault," yelped poor Mr. Wacker- bath. " You — you entirely misunderstood the — the few comments I ventured to make. It's a capital man- sion, handsome, and yet ' homey,' too. I'll never say another word against it. I'll — yes, I'll live in it — if only you'll let me up ! " 172 THE BRASS BOTTLE. " Do as lie asks you," said Horace to the Jinnee, " or I swear I'll never speak to you again." " Thou art the arbiter of this matter," was the rejjly. "And if I yield, it is at thy intercession, and not his. Else, then," he said to the humiliated client; "depart, and show us the breadth of thy shoulders." It was this precise moment which Beevor, who was probably unable to restrain his curiosity any longer, choose to re-enter the room. '* Oh, Ventimore," he began, " did I leave my ? . . . I beg your pardon, I thought you were alone again." " Don't go, sir," said Mr. AVackerbath, as he scram- bled awkwardly to his feet, his usually florid face mottled in grey and lilac. " I — I should like you to know that, after talking things quietly over with your friend Mr. Ventimore and his partner here, I am thoroughly convinced that my objections were quite untenable. I retract all I said. The house is — ah — admirably planned : most convenient, roomy, and — ah — unconventional. The — the entire freedom from all sanitary appliances is a particular recommenda- tion. In short, I am more than satisfied. Pray forget anything I may have said which might be taken to imply the contrary. . . . Gentlemen, good after- noon ! " He bowed himself past the Jinnee in a state of deference and apprehension, and was heard stumbling down the staircase. Horace hardly dared to meet A FOOL'S PAKADISE. 173 Beeyor's eyes, which, were fixed upon the greeu-tur- baned Jinnee, as he stood apart in dreamy abstraction, smiling placidly to himself. "I say," Beevor said to Horace, at last, in an undertone, "you never told me you had gone into partnership." " He's not a regular partner," whispered Yentimore ; " he does odd things for me occasionally, that's all." "He soon managed to smooth your client down," remarked Beeyor. " Yes," said Horace ; " he's an Oriental, you see, and he has a — a very persuasive manner. Would you like to be introduced ? " "If it's all the same to you," replied Beeyor, still below his voice, " I'd rather be excused. To tell you the truth, old fellow, I don't altogether fancy the looks of him, and it's my opinion," he added, " that the less you have to do with him the better. He strikes me as a wrong-'un, old man." " Xo, no," said Horace ; " eccentric, that's all — you don't understand him." " Eeceive news ! " began the Jinnee, after Beevor, with suspicion and disapproval evident even on his back and shoulders, had retreated to his own room. " Suleyman, the Son of Daood, sleeps with his fathers." " I know," retorted Horace, whose nerves were un- equal to much reference to Solomon just then. " So does Queen Anne." 174 THE BRASS BOTTLE. " I have nut heard of her. Ihit art thuii nut as- toimded, then, by my tidings ? " " I have matters nearer home to think about," said Horace, dryly. "I must say, Mr. Fakrash, yon have lauded me in a pretty mess ! " " Explain thyself more fully, for I comprehend thee not." " Why on earth," Horace groaned, " couldn't you let me build that house my own way ? " "Did I not hear thee with my own ears lament tliy inability to perform the task? Thereupon, I deter- mined that no disgrace should fall upon thee by reason of such incompetence, since I myself would erect a palace so splendid that it should cause thy name to live for ever. And, behold, it is done." " It is," said Horace. " And so am I. I don't want to reproach you. I quite feel that you have acted with the best intentions ; but, oh, hang it all ! cant you see that you've absolutely wrecked my career as an architect ? " "That is a thing that cannot be," returned the Jinnee, " seeing that thou hast all the credit." " The credit ! This is England, not Arabia. "What credit can I gain from being supposed to be the architect of an Oriental pavilion, which might be all very well for Haroun-al-Raschid, but I can assure you is preposterous as a home for an average Briton?" A FOOL'S PARADISE. 175 "Yet that overfed hoimd," remarked the Jinnee, " expressed much gratification therewith." "Naturally, after he had found that he could not give a candid opinion except on all-fours. A valuable testimonial, that ! And how do you suppose I can take his money ? No, Mr. Fakrash, if I have to go on all-fours myself for it, I must say, and I will say, that you've made a most frightful muddle of it ! " "Acquaint me with thy wishes," said Fakrash, a little abashed, "for thou knowest that I can refuse thee naught." " Then," said Horace, boldly, " couldn't you remove that palace — dissipate it into space or something ? " " Yeilly," said the Jinnee, in an aggrieved tone, "to do good acts unto such as thee is but wasted time, for thou givest me no peace till they are undone ! " " This is the last time," urged Horace ; "' I promise never to ask you for anything again." "Not for the first time hast thou made such a promise," said Fakrash. " And save for the magnitude of thy service unto me, I would not hearken to this caprice of thine, nor wilt thou find me so indulgent on another occasion. But for this once" — and he muttered some words and made a sweejuug gesture with his right hand — " thy desire is granted unto thee. Of the palace and all that is therein there remaineth no trace ! " 176 THE BE ASS BOTTLE. " Another surprise for poor old Wackerbatli," thouglit Horace, "but a pleasant one this time. My dear Mr. Fakrash," he said ahnid, " I really can't say how grateful I am to you. And now— I hate bothering you like this, but if you could manage to look in on Professor Futvoye " " What ! " cried the Jinnee, " yet another request ? Already ! " "Well, you promised you'd do that before, you know ! " said Horace. "For that matter," remarked Fakrash, "I have already fulfilled my promise." " You have ? " Horace exclaimed. " And does he believe now that it's all true about that bottle ? " " When I left him," answered the Jinnee, " all his doubts were removed." " By Jove, you are a trump ! " cried Horace, only too glad to be able to commend with sincerity. " And do you think, if I went to him now, I should find him the same as usual ? " "Nay," said Fakrash, with his weak and yet in- scrutable smile, " that is more than I can promise thee." " But why ? " asked Horace, " if he knows all ? " There was the oddest expression in the Jinnee's furtive eyes : a kind of elfin mischief combined with a sense of wrong-doing, like a naughty child whose palate is still reminiscent of illicit jam. " Because," he replied, A FOOL'S PARADISE, 177 with a sound between a giggle and a chuckle, "because, in order to overcome his unbelief, it was necessary to transform him into a one-eyed mule of hideous appearance." " What ! " cried Horace. But, whether to avoid thanks or explanations, the Jinnee had disappeared with his customary abruptness. " Fakrash ! " shouted Horace, " Mr. Fakrash ! Come back ! Do you hear ? I must speak to you ! " There was no answer ; the Jinnee might be well on his way to Lake Chad, or Jericho, by that time — he was cer- tainly far enough from Great Cloister Street. Horace sat down at his drawing-table, and, his head buried in his hands, tried to think out this latest complication. Fakrash had transformed Professor Futvoye into a one-eyed mule. It would have seemed incredible, almost unthinkable, once, but so many impossibilities had happened to Horace of late that one more made little or no strain upon his credulity. What he felt chiefly was the new barrier that this event must raise between himself and Sylvia; to do him justice, the mere fact that the father of his fiancee was a mule did not lessen his ardour in the slightest. Even if he had felt no personal responsibility for the calamity, he loved Sylvia far too well to be deterred by it, and few family cupboards are without a skeleton of some sort. With courage and the determination to look only N 178 THE BRASS BOTTLE. on the briglit side of tilings, almost any domestic drawback can be lived down. But the real point, as he instantly recognised, was whether in the changed condition of circumstances Sylvia would consent to marry him. IMiglit she not, after the experiences of that abominable dinner of his the night before, connect him in some way with her poor father's transformation ? She might even sus- pect him of employing this means of compelling the Professor to renew their engagement ; and, indeed, Horace was by no means certain himself that the Jinnee might not have acted from some muddle-headed motive of this kind. It was likely enough that the Professor, after learning the truth, should have refused to allow his daughter to marry the protege of so dubious a patron, and that Fakrash liad then resorted to pressure. In any case, Yentimore knew Sylvia well enough to feel sure that pride would steel her heart against him so long as this obstacle remained. It would be unseemly to set down here all that Horace said and thought of the person who had brought all this upon them, but after some wild and futile raving he became calm enough to recognise that his proper place was by Sylvia's side. Perhaps he ought to have tuld her at first, and then she would have been less unprepared for this— and yet how could he trouble her mind so long as he could cling to the hope that the Jinnee would cease to interfere ? A FOOL'S PARADISE. 179 But now he could be silent no longer ; naturally the prospect of calling at Cottesmore Gardens just then was anytliing but agreeable, but he felt it would be cowardly to keep away. Besides, he could cheer them up ; he could bring with him a message of hope. No doubt they believed that the Professor's transformation would be permanent — a harrowing prospect for so united a family; but, fortunately, Horace would be able to reassure them on this point. Fakrash had always revoked his previous per- formances as soon as he could be brought to under- stand their fatuity — and Ventimore would take good care that he revoked this. Nevertheless, it was with a sinking heart and an unsteady hand that he pulled the visitors' bell at the Futvoyes' house that afternoon, for he neither knew in what state he should find that afflicted family, nor how they would regard his intrusion at such a time. 180 THE BRASS BOTTLE. CHAPTER Xir. THE MESSENGEU OF IIOI'E. Jessie, the neat and pretty parlour-muiJ, opened the door with a smile of welcome which Horace found reassuring. No girl, he thought, whose master had suddenly been transformed into a mule could possibly smile like that. The Professor, she told him, was not at home, which again was comforting. For a savant, however careless about his personal appearance, would scarcely venture to brave public opinion in the sem- blance of a quadruped. " Is the Professor out ? " he inquired, to make sure. " Not exactly out, sir," said the maid, " but par- ticularly engaged, w'orking hard in his studv, ami not to be disturbed on no account." This was encom'aging, too, since a mule could hardly engage in literary labour of any kind. Evidently the Jinnee must either have over-rated his supernatural powers, or else have been deliberately amusing himself at Horace's expense. " Then I w ill see Miss Futvoye," he said. " Miss Sylvia is with the master, sir," said the girl ; THE MESSENGER OF HOPE. 181 " but if you'll come into the drawing-room I'll let Mrs. Futvoye know you are here." He had not been in the drawing-room lonof before Mrs. Futvoye aj^peared, and one glance at her face confirmed Yentimore's worst fears. Outwardly she was calm enough, but it was only too obvious that her calmness was the result of severe self-repression ; her eyes, usually so shrewdly and placidly observant, had a haggard and hunted look ; her ears seemed on the strain to catch some distant sound. " I hardly thought we should see you to-day," she began, in a tone of studied reserve ; " but j)erhaps you came to offer some explanation of the extraordinary manner in which you thought fit to entertain us last night? If so " " The fact is," said Horace, looking into his hat, " I came because I was rather anxious about the Professor." " About my husband ? " said the poor lady, w ith a really heroic effort to appear surprised. "He is— as well as could be expected. Why should you suppose otherwise ? " she added, with a flash of suspicion. " I fancied perhaps that — that he mightn't be quite himself to-day," said Horace, with his eyes on the carpet. "I see," said Mrs. Futvoye, regaining her composure ; " you were afraid that all those foreign dishes might not have agreed with him. But — except that he is a little irritable this afternoon — he is much as usual." 182 THE BRASS BOTTLE. " I'm delighted to hear it," said Horace, with reviving hojDe. " Do you think he would see me for a moment ? " " Great heavens, no ! " cried Mvs. Futvoye, \\ ith an irrepressible start ; " I mean," she explained, " that, after what took place last night, Anthony —my husband very properly feels that an interview would be too painful." " But when we parted he was perfectly friendly." "I can only say," replied the courageous woman, " that you would find him considerably altered now." Horace had no difficulty in believing it. " At least, I may see Sylvia ? " he pleaded. "No," said Mrs. Futvoye; "I really can't have Sylvia disturbed just now. She is very busy, helping her father. Anthony has to read a paper at one of his societies to-morrow night, and she is writing it out from his dictation." If any departure from strict trutli can ever be ex- cusable, this surely was one ; unfortunately, just then Sylvia herself burst into the room. "Mother," she cried, without seeing Horace in her agitation, " do come to papa, quick ! He has just begun kicking again, and I can't manage him alone. . . . Oh, you here ? " she broke off, as she saw who was in the room. " Why do you come here now, Horace ? Please, please go away ! Papa is rather unwell — nothing serious, only — oh, do go away ! " "Darling!" said Horace, going to her and taking THE MESSENGER OF HOPE. 183 both her hands, " I know all— do you understand ? — all!" " Mamma ! " cried Sylvia, reproachfully, " have you told him— already? When we settled that even Horace wasn't to know till — till papa recovers ! " "I have told him nothing, my dear," replied her mother. "He can't possibly know, unless — but no, that isn't possible. And, after all," she added, with a warning glance at her daughter, " I don't know why we should make any mystery about a mere attack of gout. But I had better go and see if your father wants anything." And she hurried out of the room. Sylvia sat down and gazed silently into the fire. " I dare say you don't know how dreadfully people kick when they've got gout," she remarked presently. " Oh yes, I do," said Horace, sympathetically ; " at least, I can guess." "Especially when it's in both legs," continued Sylvia. " Or," said Horace, gently, " in all four." " Ah, you do know ! " cried Sylvia. " Then it's all the more horrid of you to come ! " " Dearest," said Horace, " is not this just the time when my place should be near you— and him ? " "Not near papa, Horace!" she put in anxiously; " it wouldn't be at all safe." " Do you really think I have any fear for myself ? " " Are you sure you quite know — what he is like now ? " 184 THE BRASS BOTTLE. "I understand," said Horace, tryinj^ to put it as considerately as possible, " that a casual observer, who didn't know your father, might mistake him, at first sight, for — for some sort of quadruped." "He's a mule," sobbed Sylvia, breaking down en- tirely. " I could bear it better if he had been a nice mule. . . . B — but he isn't ! " "Whatever he may be," declared Horace, as he knelt by her chair endeavouring to comfort her, "nothing can alter my profound respect for him. And you must let me see him, Sylvia; because I fully believe I shall be able to cheer him up." " If you imagine you can persuade him to— to laugh it off ! " said Sylvia, tearfully. " I wasn't proposing to try to make him see the humorous side of his situation," Horace mildly ex- plained. " I trust I have more tact than that. But he may be glad to know that, at the worst, it is only a temporary inconvenience. I'll take care that he's all right again before very long." She started up and looked at him, her eyes widened with dawning dread and mistrust. "If you can speak like that," she said, "it must have been you who — no, I can't believe it — that would be too horrible ! " " I who did lohat, Sylvia ? Weren't you there when ■ — when it happened ? " "No," she replied. " I was only told of it afterwards. THE MESSENGER OF HOPE. 185 Mother heard papa talking loudly in his study this morning, as if he was angry with somebody, and at last she grew so uneasy she couldn't bear it any longer, and went in to see what was the matter with him. Dad was quite alone and looked as usual, only a little excited ; and then, without the slightest warn- ing, just as she entered the room, he— he changed slowly into a mule before her eyes ! Anybody but mamma would have lost her head and roused the whole house." " Thank Heaven she didn't ! " said Horace, fervently. " That was what I was most afraid of." " Then— oh, Horace, it ivas you ! It's no use deny- in o- it. I feel more certain of it everv moment ! " "Now, Sylvia!" he protested, still anxious, if possible, to keep the worst from her, "what could have put such an idea as that into your head ? " " I don't know," she said slowly. " Several things last night. No one who was really nice, and like everybody else, would live in queer rooms like those, and dine on cushions, with dreadful black slaves, and — and dancing-girls and things. You pretended you were quite poor." " So I am, darling. And as for the rooms, and— and the rest, they're all gone, Sylvia. If you went to Vincent Square to-day, you wouldn't find a trace of them ! " " That only shows ! " said Sylvia. " But why should 186 THE BRASS IJOT'lJ-K. you play such a cruel, and— and unj^eiitlcniaiily trick on poor dad ? If you bad ever really loved mo ! " "But I do, Sylvia, you can't really believe me capable of such an outrage! Look at me and tell me so." " No, Horace," said Sylvia, frankly. " 1 ottle, and all tluit had come of it. She bore it, on the whole, better than ho had expected; perhaps, being a woman, it was some con- solation to her to remind liini that she had foretold somethiufT of this kind from the very lirst. "But, of course, I never really thought it woid\vn on a settee. " Oh, dear me ! " she said. " I don't know what to say. I really don't. If you liad seen him ]»lunge at the mere suggestion of a doctor ! " Privately, though naturally he couhl not say so, Horace thought a vet. might be more appropriate, but eventually he persuaded Mrs. Futvoye to conduct him to her husband's study. " Anthony, love," she said, as she knocked gently at the door, " I've brought Horace Yentimore to see you for a few moments, if he may." It seemed from the sounds of furious snorting and stamping within, that the Professor resented this in- trusion on his privacy. " My dear Anthony," said his devoted wife, as she unlocked the door and turned the key on the inside after admitting Horace, "try to be THE MESSENGER OF HOPE. 189 calm. Thiak of the servants downstairs. Horace is so anxious to help." As for Yentimore, he was speechless — so inex- pressibly shocked was he by the alteration in the Pro- fessor's appearance. He had never seen a mule in sorrier condition or in so vicious a temper. Most of the lighter furniture had been already reduced to matchwood ; the glass doors of the bookcase were starred or shivered ; precious Egyptian pottery and glass were strewn in fragments on the carpet, and even the mummy, though it still smiled with the same enigmatic cheerfulness, seemed to have suffered severely from the Professorial hoofs. Horace instinctively felt that any words of con- ventional sympathy would jar here ; indeed, the Pro- fessor's attitude and expression reminded him irresistibly of a certain " Blondin Donkey " he had seen enacted by music-hall artists, at the point where it becomes sullen and defiant. Only, he had laughed helplessly at the Blondin Donkey, and somehow he felt no inclination to laugh now. " Believe me, sir," he began, " I would not disturb you like this unless — steady there, for Heaven's sake. Professor, don't kick till you've heard me out ! " For the mule, in a clumsy, shambling way which betrayed the novice, w^as slowly revolving on his own axis so as to bring his hind-quarters into action, while still keep- ino- his only serviceable eye upon his unwelcome visitor. 100 THE BRASS BOTTLE. " Listen to me, sir," said TToraco, nmnoMivrii»<; in liis turn. "I'm not to blame for tliis, and if y<'U Imiin me, as you seem to be cndcavourin*,' to do, you'll sinijily destroy the only living man who can pret you out of this." The mule appeared impressed by this, and barked cumbrously into a corner, from which he regardcMl Horace with a mistrustful, but attentive, eye. " If, as I imagine, sir," continued Horace, " yon arc, though temporarily deprived of speech, perfectly capable of following an argument, will you kindly signify it by raising your right ear?" The mule's right ear roso with a sharp twitch. " Now we can get on," said Horace. " First let me tell you that I repudiate all responsibility for the proceedings of that infernal Jinnee. ... I wouldn't stamp like that — you might go through the floor, you know. . . . Now, if you will (tidy exercise a little patience " At this the exasperated animal made a sudden run at him ^Yith his mouth open, which obliged Horace to shelter himself behind a large leather arm-chair. " You really must keep cool, sir," he remonstrated ; " your nerves are naturally upset. If I might suggest a little champagne — you could manage it in — in a bucket, and it would help you to pull yourself together. A whisk of your — er — tail would imply consent." The Professor's tail instantly swept some rare Arabian gla?s lamps and THE MESSENGER OF HOrE. 191 vases from a shelf at his rear, whereupon Mrs. Futvoye went out, and returned presently with a bottle of champagne and a large china jardiniere, as the best substitute she could find for a bucket. When the mule had drained the flower-pot greedily and appeared refreshed, Horace proceeded : '' I have every hope, sir," he said, " that before many hours you will be smiling — pray don't prance like that, I mean what I say — smiling over what now seems to you, very justly, a most annoying and serious catastrophe. I shall speak seriously to Fakrash (the Jinnee, you know), and I am sure that, as soon as he realises what a fright- ful blunder he has made, he will be the first to offer you every reparation in his power. For, old foozle as he is, he's thoroughly good-hearted." The Professor drooped his ears at this, and shook his head with a doleful incredulity that made him look more like the Pantomime Donkey than ever. " I think I understand him fairly well by this time, sir," said Horace, " and I'll answer for it that there's no real harm in him. I give you my word of honour that, if you'll only remain quiet and leave everything to me, you shall very soon be released from this absurd position. That's all I came to tell you, and now I won't trouble you any longer. If you could bring yourself, as a sign that you bear me no ill-feeling, to give me your— your off-foreleg at parting, I " But the Professor turned his back in so pointed 192 TUE BRASS DOTTLE. and ominous a manner tliat Horace judged it better to withdraw without insisting,' iurtlier. '' I'm afraid," be said to Mrs. Futvoye, after tliey balishment of liis dearest desire all liis indignation surged back. "Oh, there you are!" he said inital.ly. "Where on earth have you been all this time ?" "Nowhere on earth," was the bland rrjily ; "but in the regions of the air, seeking to i»romotG tliy welfare." " If you have been as brilliantly successful uji there as you have down here," retorted Horace, " I have much to thank you for." "I am more than repaid," answered the Jinnee, who, like many highly estimaljle persons, was almost im- pervious to irony, " by such assurances of thy gratitude." "I'm not grateful," said Horace, fuming. "I'm devilish annoyed ! " "Well hath it been written," replied tlie Jinnee : — " ' Be disregaidful of thine afTairs, and commit them to the course of Fate, For often a thing that enrages thee may eventually be to thee pleasing.' " " I don't see the remotest chance of that, in my case," said Horace. " Why is thy countenance thus troubled, and what new complaint hast thou against me ? " A CnOICE OF EVILS. 197 " What the devil do you mean by turning a dis- tinguished and perfectly inoffensive scholar into a wall- eyed mule ? " Horace broke out. " If that is your idea of a practical joke ! " " It is one of the easiest affairs possible," said the Jinnee, complacently running his fingers through the thin strands of his beard, " I have accomplished such transformations on several occasions." " Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself, that's all. The question is now— how do you propose to restore him again ? " " Far from undoing be that which is accomplished ! " was the sententious answer. " What ? " cried Horace, hardly believing his ears ; " you surely don't mean to allow that un- happy Professor to remain like that for ever, do vou?" " None can alter what is predestined." " Very likely not. But it wasn't decreed that a learned man should be suddenly degraded to a beastly mule for the rest of his life. Destiny wouldn't be such a fool ! " " Despise not mules, for they are useful and valuable animals in the household." "But, confound it all, have you no imagination? Can't you enter at all into the feelings of a man — a man of wide learning and reputation — suddenly plunged into such a humiliating condition ? " 198 THE BRASS BOTTLE. "Uiiou his own head belt," said Fakrasli, coldly. "For he hath brought this fate upon himself." " Well, how do you suppose that you have helped me by this performance ? Will it make liim any the more disposed to consent to my marrying his daughter ? Is that all you know of the world ? " "It is not my intention that thou shouldest take his daughter to wife." " Whether you approve or not, it's my intention to marry her." " Assuredly she w ill not marry thee so long as her father remaineth a mule." " There I agree with you. But is that vour notion of doing me a good turn ? " " I did not consider thy interest in this matter." " Then will you be good enough to consider it now ? I have pledged my word that he shall be restored to his original form. Not only my happiness is at stake, but my honour." " By failure to perform the impossible none can lose honour. And this is a thing that cannot be undone." " Cannot be undone ? " repeated Horace, feeling a cold clutch at his heart. " Whv ? " " Because," said the Jinnee, sullenly, " I have for- gotten the way." " Nonsense ! " retorted Horace ; " I don't believe it. A\ hy," he urged, descending^ to flatterv, " vou're such a clever old Johnny — I beg your pardon, I meant such a A CHOICE OF EVILS. 199 clever old Jinnee — you can do anything, if you only give your mind to it. Just look at the way you changed this house back again to what it was. Marvellous ! " " That was the veriest trifle," said Fakrash, though he was obviously pleased by this tribute to his talent ; " this would be a different affair altogether." " But child's play to you ! " insinuated Horace. '' Come, you know very well you can do it if you only choose." " It may be as thou say est. But I do not choose." " Then I think," said Horace, " that, considering the obligation you admit yourself you are under to me, I have a right to know the reason — the real reason — why you refuse." " Thy claim is not without justice," answered the Jinnee, after a pause, " nor can I decline to gratify thee." " That's right," cried Horace ; " I knew you'd see it in the proper light Avhen it was once put to you. Now, don't lose any more time, but restore that unfortunate man at once, as you've promised." " Not so," said the Jinnee ; " I promised thee a reason for my refusal— and that thou shalt have. Know then, my son, that this indiscreet one had, by some vile and unhallowed arts, divined the hidden meaning of what was written upon the seal of the bottle wherein I was confined, and was preparing to reveal the same unto all men." 200 THE BRASS BOTTLE. " What would it matter to you if lie did ? " " Much— for the writing contained a false and lying record of my actions." "If it is all lies, it can't do you any harm. Wliy not treat them with the contempt they deserve ? " " They are not all lies," the Jinnee admitted reluctantly. "Well, never mind. Whatever you've done, you've expiated it by this time." "Now that Suleyman is no more, it is my desire to seek out my kinsmen of tlie Green .Tinn, and live out my days in amity and honour. How can that be if they hear my name execrated by all mortals ? " " Nobody would think of execrating you about an affair three thousand years old. It's too stale a scandal." " Thou speakest without understanding. I tell thee that if men knew but the half of my misdoings," said Fakrash, in a tone not altogether free from a kind of sombre complacency, " the noise of them would rise even unto the uppermost regions, and scorn and loath- ing would be my portion." " Oh, it's not so bad as all that," said Horace, who liad a private impression that the Jinnee's "j^ast" would probably turn out to be chiefly made up of peccadilloes. "But, anyway, I'm sure the Professor will readily agree to keep silence about it ; and, as you A CHOICE OF EVILS. 201 have, of course, got the seal in your own possession aoram- " Nay ; the seal is still in his possession, and it is naught to me where it is deposited," said Fakrash, " since the only mortal who hath deciphered it is now a dumb animal." "Not at all," said Horace. "There are several friends of his who could decipher that inscription quite as easily as he did." "Is this the truth?" said the Jinnee, in visible alarm, " Certainly," said Horace. " Within the last quarter of a century archaeology has made great strides. Our learned men can now read Babylonian bricks and Chaldean tablets as easily as if they were advertise- ments on galvanised iron. You may think you've been extremely clever in turning the Professor into an animal, but you'll probably find you've only made another mistake." " How so ? " inquired Fakrash. "Well," said Horace, seeing his advantage, and pushing it unscrupulously, " now that, in your infinite wisdom, you have ordained that he should be a mule, he naturally can't possess property. Therefore all his effects will have to be sold, and amongst them will be that seal of yours, which, like many other things in his collection, will probably be bought up by the British Museum, where it will be examined and 202 TEP] BRASS BOTTLE. commented upon by every Orientalist in Europe. I suppose you've thought of all that ? " " young man of marvellous sagacity ! " said tlic Jinnee ; " truly I had omitted to consider these things, and thou liast opened my eyes in time. For I will present myself unto this man-mulo and adjure him to reveal where he hath bestowed this seal, so that I may regain it." " He can't do that, you know, so long as he remains a mule." " I will endow him with speech for the purpose." " Let me tell you this," said Horace : " he's in a very nasty temper just now, naturally enough, and you won't get anything out of him until you have restored him to human form. If you do that, he'll agree to anything," " Whether I restore him or not will depend not on me, but on the damsel who is his daughter, and to whom thou art contracted in marriage. For first of all I must speak with her." " So long as I am present and you promise not to play any tricks," said Horace, " I've no objection, for I believe, if you once saw her and heard her plead for her poor father, you wouldn't have the heart to hold out any longer. But you must give me your word that you'll behave yourself." " Thou hast it," said the Jinnee ; "I do but desire to see her on thine account." A CHOICE OF EVILS. 203 " Very well," agreed Horace ; " but I really can't introduce you in that turban— slie'd be terrified. Couldn't you contrive to get yourself up in common- place English clothes, just for once— something that wouldn't attract so much attention ? " " Will this satisfy thee ? " inquired the Jinnee, as his green turban and flowing robes suddenly resolved themselves into the conventional chimney-pot hat, frock-coat, and trousers of modern civilisation. He bore a painful resemblance in them to the khid of elderly gentleman who comes on in the harlequinade to be bonneted by the clown ; but Horace was in no mood to be critical just then. "That's better," he said encouragingly; "much better. Now," he added, as he led the way to the hall and put on his own hat and overcoat, " we'll go out and find a hansom and be at Keusingtou in less than twenty minutes." " We shall be there in less than twenty seconds," said the Jinnee, seizing him by the arm above the elbow ; and Horace found himself suddenly carried up into the air and set down, gasping with surprise and want of breath, on the pavement opposite the Futvoyes' door. " I should just like to observe," he said, as soon as he could speak, "that if we've been seen, we shall probably cause a sensation. Londoners are not accus- tomed to seeing people skimming over the chimney- pots like amateur rooks." 204 THE BRASS BOTTLE. " Trouble not for that," said Fakrasli, " for no mortal eyes are capable of following our flight." " I hope not," said Horace, " or I shall lose any reputation I have left. I think," he added, " I'd better go in alone first and prepare them, if you won't mind waiting outside. I'll come to tlie window and wave my pocket-handkerchief when they're ready. And do come in by the door like an ordinary person, and ask the maidservant if you may see me." " I will bear it in mind," answered the Jinnee, and suddenly sank, or seemed to sink, through a chink in the pavement. Horace, after ringing at the Futvoyes' door, was admitted and shown into the drawing-room, where Sylvia presently came to him, looking as lovely as ever, in spite of the pallor due to sleeplessness and anxiety. " It is kind of you to call and inquire," she said, with the unnatural calm of suppressed hysteria. " Dad is much the same this morning. He had a fairly good night, and was able to take part of a carrot for breakfast — but I'm afraid he's just remembered that he has to read a paper on ' Oriental Occultism ' before the Asiatic Society this evening, and it's worrying him a little. . . . Oh, Horace ! " she broke out, unexpectedly, " how perfectly awful all this is ! How are we to bear it?" " Don't give way, darling ! " said Horace ; " you will not have to bear it much longer." A CHOICE OF EVILS. 205 "It's all very well, Horace, but unless something is done soon it will be too late. We can't go on keeping a mule in the study without the servants suspecting something, and where are we to put poor, dear paj^a ? It's too ghastly to think of his having to be sent away to — to a Home of Eest for Horses — and yet what is to be done with him ? . . . A\'hy do you come if you can't do anything ? " "I shouldn't be here unless I could briuir vou irood news. You remember what I told you about the Jinnee ? " " Eemember ! " cried Sylvia. " As if I could forget ! Has he really come back, Horace ? " " Yes. I think I have brought him to see that he has made a foolish mistake in enchanting your unfor- tunate father, and he seems willing to undo it on certain conditions. He is somewhere within call at this moment, and will come in whenever I give the signal. But he wishes to speak to you first." " To me f Oh no, Horace ! " exclaimed Sylvia, re- coiling, " I'd so much rather not. I don't like things that have come out of brass bottles. I shouldn't know what to say, and it would frighten me horribly." " You must be brave, darling ! " said Horace. " Ee- member that it depends on you whether the Professor is to be restored or not. And there's nothing alarm- ing about old Fakrash, either. I've got him to put on ordinary things, and he really don't look so bad in 206 THE BRASS BOTTLE. them. He's quite a mild, amiaLle old noodle, and he'll do anything for you, if you'll only stroke him down the right way. You will see him, won't you, for your father's sake ? " "If I must," said Sylvia, with a shudder, " I— I'll be as nice to him as I can." Horace went to the window and gave the signal, though there was no one in sight. However, it was evidently seen, for the next moment there was a resounding blow at the front door, and a little later Jessie, the parlour-maid, announced, " ^Ix. Fatrasher Larmash — to see ]\[r. Ventimore," and the Jinnee stalked gravely in, with his tall hat on his head. " You are probably not aware of it, sir," said Horace, " but it is the custom here to uncover in the presence of a lady." The Jinnee removed his hat with both hands, and stood silent and impassive. "Let me present you to ]\[iss Sylvia Futvoye," Ventimore continued, " the lady whose name you have already heard." There was a momentary gleam in Fakrash's odd, slanting eyes as they lighted on Sylvia's shrinking figure, but he made no acknowledgment of the intro- duction. "The damsel is not without comeliness," he remarked to Horace ; " but there are lovelier far than she." " I didn't ask you for either criticisms or compari- sons," said Ventimore, sharply ; " there is nobody in A CHOICE OF EVILS. 207 the world equal to Miss Futvoye, in my o]3inion, and you will be good enougli to remember that fact. She is exceedingly distressed (as any dutiful daughter would be) by the cruel and senseless trick you have played her father, and she begs that you will rectify it at once. Don't you, Sylvia ? " " YeSj indeed ! " said Sylvia, almost in a whisper, " if — if it isn't troubling you too much ! " " I have been turning over thy words in my mind," said Fakrash to Horace, still ignoring Sylvia, " and I am convinced that thou art right. Even if the con- tents of the seal were known of all men, they would raise no clamour about affairs that concern them not. Therefore it is nothing to me in whose hands the seal may be. Dost thou not agree with me in this ? " " Of course I do," said Horace. '' And it naturally follows that " " It naturally follows, as thou sayeth," said the Jinnee, with a cunning assumption of indifference, " that I have naught to gain by demanding back the seal as the price of restoring this damsel's father to his original form. Wherefore, so far as I am concerned, let him remain a mule for ever ; unless, indeed, thou art ready to comply with my conditions." " Conditions ! " cried Horace, utterly unprepared for this conclusion. " What can you possibly want from me ? But state them. I'll agree to anything, in reason ! " 208 THE BRASS BOTTLE. " I demand that thou shonld'st reiioimce the liand of this damsel." " That's out of all reason," said Horace, " and you know it. I will never give her up, so long as she is willing to keep me." "Maiden," said the Jinnee, addressing Sylvia for the first time, " the matter rests with thee. AVilt tlioii release this my son from his contract, since thou art no fit wife for such as he ? " "How can I," cried Sylvia, "when I love him and he loves me ? A^'hat a wicked, tyrannical old thing you must be to expect it ! I cant give him up." " It is but giving up what can never be thine," said Fakrash. "And be not anxious for him, for I will reward and console him a thousandfold for the loss of thy society. A little while, and he shall remember thee no more." " Don't believe him, darling," said Horace ; " you know me better than that." " Eemember," said the Jinnee, " that by thy refusal thou wilt condemn thy parent to remain a mule throughout all his davs. Art thou so unnatural and hard-hearted a daughter as to do this thing ? " " Oh, I couldn't ! " cried Sylvia. " I can't let poor father remain a mule all his life when one word — and yet what am I to do ? Horace, what shall I say ? Advise me . . . Advise me ! " " Heaven help us both ! " groaned Yentimore. " If A CHOICE OF EVILS. 209 I could only see the right thing to do. Look here, Mr. Fakrash," he added, *' this is a matter that requires consideration. Will you relieve us of your j^i'esence for a short time, while we talk it over ? " " With all my heart," said the Jinnee, in the most obliging manner in the world, and vanished instantly. " Now, darling," began Horace, after he had gone, *' if that unspeakable old scoundrel is really in earnest, there's no denying that he's got us in an extremely tight place. But I can't bring myself to believe that he does mean it. I fancy he's only trying us. And what I want you to do is not' to consider me in the matter at all." " How can I help it ? " said poor Sylvia. " Horace, you — you don't want to be released, do you ? " " I ? " said Horace, " when you are all I have in the world ! That's so likely, Sylvia ! But we are bound to look facts in the face. To begin with, even if this hadn't happened, your people wouldn't let our engage- ment continue. For my prosj)ects have changed again, dearest. I'm even worse off than when we first met, for that confounded Jinnee has contrived to lose my first and only client for me— the one thing worth having he ever gave me." And he told her the story of the mushroom palace and Mr. Wackerbath's withdrawal. " So you see, darling," he concluded, " I haven't even a home to offer you ; and if I had, it would be miser- ably uncomfortable for you with that old Marplot p 210 TUE BRASS BOTTLE. coutiimally dropping in ou us — especially if, as I'm afraid he lias, he's taken some unreasonable dislike to you." "But surely you can talk him over?" said Sylvia; *' you said you could do anything you liked with him." " I'm beginning to find," he replied, ruefully enough, " that he's not so easily managed as I thought. And for the present, I'm afraid, if we are to get the Professor out of this, that there's nothing for it but to humour old Fakrash." " Then you actually advise me to — to break it off? " she cried ; " I never thought you would do that ! " " For your own sake," said Horace ; *' for your father's sake. If you won't, Sylvia, I inu8t. And you will spare me that ? Let us both agree to part, and — and trust that we shall be united some day." " Don't try to deceive me or yourself, Horace," she said ; " if we part now, it will be for ever." He had a dismal conviction that she was rijrht. " We must hope for the best," he said drearily ; " Fakrash may have some motive in all this we don't understand. Or he may relent. But part we must, for the present." " Very well," she said. « If he restores dad, I will give you up. But not unless." "Hath the damsel decided?" asked the Jinnee, suddenly re-appearing ; " for the period of deliberation is past." A CHOICE OF EVILS. 211 " Miss Fiitvoye and I," Horace answered for her, "are willing to consider our engagement at an end, until you approve of its renewal, on condition that you restore her father at once." " Agreed ! " said Fakrash. " Conduct me to him, and we will arrange the matter without delay." Outside they met Mrs. Futvoye on her way from the study. " You here, Horace ? " she exclaimed. "And who is this — gentleman? " "This," said Horace, "is the — er — author of the Professor's misfortunes, and he has come here at my request to undo his work." "It ivoidcl be so kind of him ! " exclaimed the dis- tressed lady, who was by this time far beyond either surprise or resentment. "I'm sure, if he knew all we have gone through ! " and she led the way to her husband's room. As soon as the door was opened the Professor seemed to recognise his tormentor in spite of his changed raiment, and was so powerfully agitated that he actually reeled on his four legs, and " stood over " in a lament- able fashion. " man of distinguished attainments ! " began the Jinnee, " whom I have caused, for reasons that are known unto thee, to assume the shape ofa mule, speak, I adjure thee, and tell me where thou hast deposited the inscribed seal which is in thy possession." The Professor spoke ; and the effect of articulate 212 THE BRASS BOTTLE. speech proceeding from the mouth of what was to all outward seeming an ordinary mule was strange beyond description. "I'll see you damned iirst," he said sullenly. " You can't do worse to me than you've done already ! " "As thou wilt," said Fakrash ; - but unless 1 regain it, I will not restore thee to what thou wast." " Well, then," said the mule, savagely, "you'll liiul it in the top right-hand drawer of my writing-table : the key is in that diorite bowl on tho mantelpiece." The Jinnee unlocked the drawer, and took out tho metal cap, which he placed in the breast pocket of his incongruous frock-coat. " So far, well," he said ; " next thou must deliver up to me the transcription thou hast made, and swear to preserve an inviolable secrecy regarding the meaning thereof." "Do you know what you're asking, sir?" said the mule, laying back his ears viciously. " Do you think that to oblige you I'm going to suppress one of the most remarkable discoveries of my whole scientific career ? Never, sir — never ! " " Since if thou refusest I shall assuredly deprive thee of speech once more and leave thee a mule, as thou art now, of hideous appearance," said the Jinnee, " thou art like to gain little by a discovery which thou wilt be unable to impart. However, the choice rests with thee." The mule rolled his one eye, and showed all his A CHOICE OF EVILS. 213 teeth ill a vicious snarl. " You've got the whip-hand of me," he said, " and I may as well give in. There's a transcript inside my blotting-case — it's the only copy I've made." Fakrash found the paper, which he rubbed into invisibility between his palms, as any ordinary con- jurer might do. " Now raise thy right forefoot," he said, " and swear by all thou boldest sacred never to divulge what thou hast learnt "—which oath the Professor, in the vilest of tempers, took, clumsily enough. " Good," said the Jinnee, with a grim smile. " Now let one of thy women bring me a cup of fair water." Sylvia went out, and came back with a cup of water. " It's filtered," she said anxiously ; " I don't know if that will do ? " " It will suffice," said Fakrash. " Let both the women withdraw." "Surely," remonstrated Mrs. Futvoye, "you don't mean to turn his wife and daughter out of the room at such a moment as this ? We shall be perfectly quiet, and we may even be of some help." " Do as you're told, my dear ! " snapped the un- grateful mule ; " do as you're told. You'll only be in the way here. Do you suppose he doesn't know his own beastly business ? " They left accordingly; whereupon Fakrash took the cup— an ordinary breakfast-cup with a C4reek 214 THE BRASS BOTTLE. key-border pattern in pale Mne round the top— and, drencliing the mule witli the contents, exclaimed, " Quit this form and return to the form in whidi thou wast ! " For a dreadful moment or two it seemed as if no effect was to be produced; the animal simply stood and shivered, and Yentimore began to feel an agonising suspicion that the Jinnee really had, as he had first asserted, forgotten how to perform tliis particular incantation. All at once the mule reared, and began to beat the air frantically with his fore-hoofs ; after which he fell heavily backward into the nearest armchair (which was, fortunately, a solid and capacious piece of furni- ture) with his fore-legs hanging limply at his side, in a semi-human fashion. There was a brief convulsion, and then, by some gradual process unspeakably im- pressive to witness, the man seemed to break through tbe mule, the mule became merged in the man — and Professor Futvoye, restored to his own natural form and habit, sat gasping and trembling in the chair before them. ( 215 ) CHAPTER XIV. "SINCE there's no HELP, COME, LET US KISS AND PART ! " As soon as the Professor seemed to have regained his faculties, Horace opened the door and called in Sylvia and her mother, who were, as was only to be expected, overcome with joy on seeing the head of the family released from his ignoble condition of a singularly ill-favoured quadruped. " There, there," said the Professor, as he submitted to their embraces and incoherent congratulations, " it's nothing to make a fuss about. I'm quite myself again, as you can see. And," he added, with an unreasonable outburst of ill-temper, " if one of you had only had the common sense to think of such a simple remedy as sprinkling a little cold water over me when I was first taken like that, I should have been spared a great deal of unnecessary inconvenience. But that's always the way with women— lose their heads the moment any- thing goes wrong ! If I had not kept perfectly cool myself " 216 THE BRASS BOTTLE. " It was very, very stupid of us nut to tliink of it, papa," said Sylvia, tactfully ignoring the fact that there was scarcely an undamaged article in the room ; "still, you know, if we had thrown the water it miglitn't have had the same effect." " I'm not in a condition to argue now," suid lier father; "you didn't troulde to try it, mid tlicre's no more to be said." "No more to be said!" exclaimed Fakrash, "() thou monster of ingratitude, hast thou no thanks for him who hath delivered thee from thy predicament?" " As I am already indebted to you, sir," said the Professor, "for about twenty-four hours of the most poignant and humiliating mental and bodily anguish a human being can endure, inflicted for no valid reason that I can discover, except the wanton indulgence of your unholy powers, I can only say that any gratitude of which I am conscious is of a very qualified description. As for you, Ventimore," he added, turning to Horace, "I don't know — I can only guess at — the part you have played in this wretched business ; but in any case you will understand, once for all, that all relations between us must cease." "Papa," said Sylvia, tremulously, "Horace and I have already agreed that — that we must separate." " At my bidding," explained Fakrash, suavely ; " for such an alliance would be totally unworthy of his merits and condition," "LET US KISS AND PAET ! " 217 This frankness was rather too much for the Professor, whose temper ha^l not been improved by his recent trials. " Nobody asked for your opinion, sir ! " he snapped. " A person who has only recently been released from a term of Ions; and, from all I have been able to ascer- tain, well-deserved imprisonment, is scarcely entitled to pose as an authority on social rank. Have the decency not to interfere again with my domestic affairs." " Excellent is the saying," remarked the imperturb- able Jinnee, " ' Let the rat that is between the paws of the leopard observe rigidly all the rules of politeness and refrain from words of provocation.' For to return thee to the form of a mule once more would be no difficult undertaking." " I think I failed to make myself clear," the Pro- fessor hastened to observe — "failed to make myself clear. I— I merely meant to congratulate you on your fortunate escape from the consequences of what I— I don't doubt was an error of justice. I— I am sure that, in the future, you will employ your— your very remark- able abilities to better purpose, and I would suggest that the greatest service you can do this unfortunate young man here is to abstain from any further attempts to promote his interests." " Hear, hear ! " Horace could not help throwing in, though in so discreet an undertone that it was inaudible. 2 ] 8 THE BRASS BOTTLE. " Far be this from me," replied Fakrash. " For lie has become unto me even as a favourite s(jn, whom 1 design to place upon the golden pinnacle of felicity. Therefore, I have chosen for him a wife, who is unto this damsel of thine as the full moon to the glow-worm, and as the bird of I'aradise to an unfledged sparrow. And the nuptials sliall be celebrated before many hours." " Horace ! " cried Sylvia, justly incensed, " \\]\y—icJnj didn't you tell me this before ? " " Because," said the unhappy Horace, "this is the very first I've heard of it. He's always springing some fresh surprise on me," he added, in a whisper — " but they never come to anything much. And he can't marry me against my will, you know." " No," said Sylvia, biting her lip. " I never sup- posed he could do that, Horace." " I'll settle this at once," he replied. " Now, look here, Mr. Jinnee," he added, " I don't know what new scheme you have got in your head — but if you are pro- posing to marry me to anybody in particular " " Have I not informed thee that I have it in con- templation to obtain for thee the hand of a King's daughter of marvellous beauty and accomplishments ? " " You know perfectly well you never mentioned it before," said Horace, while Sylvia gave a little low cry. "Repine not, damsel," counselled the Jinnee, " since it is for his welfare. For, though as yet he "LET US KISS AND PART ! " 219 believeth it not, when be beholds the resplendent beauty of her countenance he will swoon away with delight and forget thy very existence." "I shall do nothing of the sort," said Horace, savagely. "Just understand that I don't intend to marry any Princess. You may prevent me — in fact, you have — from marrying this lady, but you can't force me to marry anybody else. I defy you ! " " When thou hast seen thy bride's perfections thou wilt need no compulsion," said Fakrash. " And if thou should'st refuse, know this : that thou wilt be exposing those who are dear to thee in this household to calamities of the most unfortunate description." The awful vagueness of this threat completely crushed Horace ; he could not think, he did not even dare to imagine, what consequences he might bring upon his beloved Sylvia and her helpless parents by persisting in his refusal. " Give me time," he said heavily ; " I want to talk this over with you." "Pardon me, Ventimore," said the Professor, with acidulous politeness ; " but, interesting as the discussion of your matrimonial arrangements is to you and your —a— protector, I should greatly prefer that you chose some more fitting place for arriving at a decision which is in the circumstances a foregone conclusion, I am rather tired and upset, and I should be obliged if you and this gentleman could bring this most trying 220 THE BRASS BOTTLE. interview to a close as soon as you conveniently can." "You hear, Mr. Fakrash ? " said Horace, between his teeth, " it is quite time we left. If you go at once, I will follow you very shortly." " Thou wilt find me awaiting thee," answercil the Jinnee, and, to Mrs. Futvoye's and Sylvia's alarm, dis- ap[)earcd through one of the bookcases. "Well," said Horace, gloomily, " you see how I'm situated? That obstinate old devil has cornered me. I'm done for ! " "Don't say that," said the Professor; "you appear to be on the eve of a most brilliant alliance, in which I am sure you have our best wishes — the best \\ishes of us all," he added pointedly. "Sylvia," said Horace, still lingering, "before I go, tell me that, whatever I may have to do, you will understand that — that it will be for your sake ! " " Please don't talk like that," she said. " We may never see one another ajjaiu. Don't let mv last re- collection of you be of — of a hypocrite, Horace ! " " A hypocrite ! " he cried. " Sylvia, this is too much ! What have I said or done to make vou think me that ? " " Oh, I am not so simple as you suppose, Horace," she replied. " I see now why all this has happened : why poor dad was tormented; why you insisted on my setting you free. But I would have released you "LET US KISS AND PART ! » 221 without that! Indeed, all this elaborate artifice wasn't in the least necessary ! " " You believe I was an accomplice in that old fool's plot ? " he said. " You believe me such a cur as that?" " I don't blame you," she said. " I don't believe you could help yourself. He can make you do what- ever he chooses. And, then, you are so rich now, it is natural that you should want to marry some one — • some one more suited to you — like this lovely Princess of yours." " Of mine ! " groaned the exasperated Horace. " When I tell you I've never even seen her ! As if any Princess in the world would marry me to please a Jinnee out of a brass bottle ! And if she did, Sylvia, you can't believe that any Princess would make me forget you ! " " It depends so very much on the Princess," was all Sylvia could be induced to say. "Well," said Horace, "if that's all the faith you have in me, I suppose it's useless to say any more. Good-bye, Mrs. Futvoye ; good-bye, Professor. I wish I could tell you how deeply I regret all the trouble I have brought on you by my own folly. All I can say is, that I will bear anything in future rather than expose you or any of you to the smallest risk." " I trust, indeed," said the Professor, stiffly, " that you will use all the influence at your command to 222 TOR BRASS BOTTLE. secure me from any repetition of an experience that might well have unmanned a less equable tempera- ment than my own." « Good-bye, Horace," said 3Irs. Futvoye, more kindly. "I believe you are more to be pitied thuu l>lamod, whatever others may think. And I don't forget— if Anthony does— that, but for you, he might, instead of sitting tliere comfortably in his armchair, be lashing out with his hind legs and kicking everything to pieces at this very moment ! " "I deny that I lashed out!" said the Professor. "j\ry— a— hind quarters may have been under im- perfect control— but I never lost my reasoning powers or my good humour for a single instant. I can say that truthfully." If the Professor could say that truthfully amidst the general wreck in which he sat, like another ^larius, he had little to learn in the gentle art of self-decep- tion ; but there was nothing to gain by contradicting him then. " Good-bye, Sylvia," said Horace, and held out his hand. " Good-bye," she said, without offering to take it or look at him— and, after a miserable pause, he left the study. But before he had reached the front door he heard a swish and swirl of drapery behind him, and felt her light hand on his arm. " Ah, no ! " she said, clinging to him, " I can't let you go like this. I didn't "LET US KISS AND TART ! " 223 ineau all the things I said just now. I do believe in you, Horace— at least, I'll try hard to . . . And I shall always, ahvays love you, Horace ... I shan't care — very much — even if you forget me, so long as you are happy , . . Only don't he too happy. Think of me sometimes ! " " I shall not be too happy," he said, as he held her close to his heart and kissed her pathetically drawn mouth and flushed cheeks. "And I shall think of you always." " And you won't fall in love with your Princess ? " entreated Sylvia, at the end of her altruism. " Promise ! " " If I am ever provided with one," he replied, " I shall loathe her — for not being you. But don't let us lose heart, darling. There must be some way of talking that old idiot out of this nonsense and bringing him round to common sense. I'm not going to give in just yet ! " These were brave words — but, as they both felt, the situation had little enough to warrant them, and, after one last long embrace, they parted, and he was no sooner on the steps than he felt himself caught up as before and borne through the air with breathless speed, till he was set down, he could not have well said how, in a chair in his own sitting-room at Vincent Square. "Well," he said, looking at the Jinnee, who was 224 THE BRASS BOTTLE. standing opposite, with a smile of intolerable com- placency, " I suppose you feel satisfied with yourself over this business ? " " It hath indeed been brouglit to a favourable conclusion," said Fakrash. "Well hath the poet written " " I don't think I can stand any more ' Elegant Extracts ' this afternoon," interrupted Horace. " Let us come to business. You seem," he went on, with a strong effort to keep himself in hand, " to have formed some plan for marrying me to a King's daughter. May I ask you for full particulars ? " " No honour and advancement can be in excess of thy deserts," answered the Jinnee. " Very kind of you to say so— Ijut you are probably unaware that, as society is constituted at the present time, the objections to such an alliance would be quite insuperable." " For me," said the Jinnee, " few obstacles are insuperable. But speak thy mind freely." " I will," said Horace. ''' To begin witli, no European Princess of the Blood Eoyal would entertain the idea for a moment. And if she did, she would forfeit her rank and cease to be a Princess, and I should probably be imprisoned in a fortress for lese majeste or something." *' Dismiss thy fears, for I do not propose to unite thee to any Princess that is born of mortals. The bride I intend for thee is a Jinneeyeh ; the peerless "LET tJS KISS AND PABT ! " 225 Bedeea-el- Jemal, daughter of my kinsman Shahyal, the Euler of the Blue Jann." " Oh, is she, though ? " said Horace, blankly. " I'm exceedingly obliged, but, whatever may be the lady's attractions " "Her nose," recited the Jinnee, with enthusiasm, " is like unto the keen edge of a polished sword ; her hair resembleth jewels, and her cheeks are ruddy as wine. She hath heavy hips, and when she looketh aside she putteth to shame the wild cows." "My good, excellent friend," said Horace, by no means impressed by this catalogue of charms, "one doesn't marry to mortify wild cows." "When she walketh with a vacillating gait," con- tinued Fakrash, as though he had not been inter- rupted, " the willow branch itself turneth green with envy." " Personally," said Horace, " a waddle doesn't strike me as particiilarly fascinating — it's quite a matter of taste. Do you happen to have seen this enchantress lately ? " " My eyes have hot been refreshed by her manifold beauties since I was enclosed by Suleyman — whose name be accursed — in the brass bottle of which thou knowest. Why dost thou ask ? " " Merely because it occurred to me that, after very nearly three thousand years, your charming kinswoman may — well, to put it as mildly as possible, not have Q 226 THE BRASS BOTTLK. altogether escaped the usual effects of Time. 1 meau, she must be getting ou, you know ! " "0, silly-bearded one!" said the .liuiiec, in liuli- scornful rebulve ; " art thou, then, ignorant that we of the Jinn are not as mortals, tliat we should feel the i-avages of age ? " "Forgive me il" I'm peisonul, " said linraec; " I'ut surely your own hair and beard might be deserilicd as rather inclining to grey." "Not from age," said Fakrash. " This cometh lr..m lone: confinement." " I see," said Horace. " J.ike the Prisoner of Chillon. AVell, assuming tliat the lady in question is still in the bloom of early youth, I see one fatal difficulty to becoming her suitor." "Doubtless," said the Jinnee, " thou art referring to Jarjarees, the son of Ixejmoos, the son of Iblees ? " " No, I w asn't," said Horace ; " because, you see, I don't remember having ever heard of him. However, he's another fatal difficulty. That makes two of them." " Surely I have spoken of him to thee as my deadliest foe ? It is true that he is a powerful and vindictive Efreet, who hath long persecuted the beauteous Bedeea with hateful attentions. Yet it may be possible, by good fortune, to overthrow him." " Then I gather that any suitor for Bedeea's hand would be looked upon as a rival by the amiable Jarjarees ? " " LET US KISS AND PART ! " 227 "Far is he from being of an amiable disposition," answered the Jinnee, simply, "and he would be so transported by rage and jealousy that he would certainly challenge thee to mortal combat." " Then that settles it," said Horace. " I don't think any one can fairly call me a coward, but I do draw the line at fighting an Efreet for the hand of a lady I've never seen. How do I know he'll fight fair ? " " He would probably appear unto thee first in the form of a lion, and if he could not thus prevail against thee, transform himself into a serpent, and then into a buffalo or some other wild beast." " And I should have to tackle the entire menagerie ? " said Horace. " Why, my dear sir, I should never get beyond the lion ! " " I would assist thee to assume similar transforma- tions," said the Jinnee, "and thus thou may'st be enabled to defeat him. For I burn with desire to behold mine enemy reduced to cinders." "It's much more likely that you would have to sweep me up ! " said Horace, who had a strong con- viction that anything in which the Jinnee was concerned would be bungled somehow. " xind if you're so anxious to destroy this Jarjarees, why don't you challenge him to meet you in some quiet place in the desert and settle him yourself? It's much more in your line than it is in mine ! " He was not without hopes that Fakrash might act 228 THE BUASS bottle. on this suggestion, and that so he would be relieved of him in the simplest and most satisfactory way ; but any such hoj^es were as usual doomed to dis- aj)pointment. " It would be of no avail," said the Jinnee, " for it hath been written of old that Jarjarees shall not perish save by the hand of a mortal. And I am persuaded that thou wilt turn out to be that mortal, since thou art both strong and fearless, and, moreover, it is also predestined that Bedeea shall wed one of the sons of men." "Then," said Horace, feeling that this line of defence must be abandoned, " I fall back on objection number one. Even if Jarjarees were obliging enough to retire in my favour, I should still decline to be- come the — a — consort of a Jinneeyeh whom I've never seen, and don't love." " Thou hast heard of her incomparable charms, and verily the ear may love before the eye." "It may," admitted Horace, "but neither of my ears is the least in love at present." " These reasons are of no value," said Fakrash, « and if thou hast none better " "Well," said Yentimore, "I think I have. You profess to be anxious to— to requite the trifling service I rendered you, though hitherto, you'll admit yourself, you haven't made a very brilliant success of it. But, putting the past aside," he continued, with a sudden "LET US KISS AND PAET ! " 229 dryness in his throat ; " putting the jmst aside, I ask you to consider what j^ossible benefit or happiness such a match as this— I'm afraid I'm not so fortunate as to secure your attention ? " he broke off, as he observed the Jinnee's eyes beginning to film over in the disagreeable manner characteristic of certain birds. " Proceed," said Fakrash, unskinning his eyes for a second ; " I am hearkening unto thee." " It seems to me," stammered Horace, inconsequently enough, " that all that time inside a bottle — well, you can't call it experience exactly; and possibly in the interval you've forgotten all you knew about feminine nature. I think you must have." " It is not possible that such knowledge should be forgotten," said the Jinnee, resenting this imputation in quite a human way. " Thy words appear to me to lack sense. Interpret them, I pray thee." " Why," explained Horace, " you don't mean to tell me that this young and lovely relation of yours, a kind of immortal, and — and with the devil's own pride, would be gratified by your proposal to bestow her hand upon an insignificant and unsuccessful London archi- tect ? She'd turn up that sharp and polished nose of hers at the mere idea of so unequal a match ! " " An excellent rank is that conferred by wealth," remarked the Jinnee. " But I'm not rich, and I've already declined any riches from you," said Horace. " And, what's more to 230 THE BRASS BOTTLE. the point, I'm perfectly ami hopelessly obscure. If you had the slightest sense of humour — which I fear you have not — you would at once perceive the absurdity of proposing to unite a radiant, ethereal, superhuman being to a commonplace professional nonentity in a morning coat and a tall hat. It's really too ridi- culous ! " " What thou hast just said is not altogether without wisdom," said Fakrash, to whom this was evidently a new point of view. " Art thou, indeed, so utterly unknown ? " " Unknown ? " repeated Horace ; " I should rather think I was ! I'm simply an inconsiderable unit in the population of the vastest city in the world ; or, rather, not a unit — a cipher. And, doij't you see, a man to be worthy of your exalted kinswoman ought to be a celebrity. There are plenty of them about." " What meanest thou by a celebrity ? " inquired Fakrash, falling into the trap more readily than Horace had ventured to hope. "Oh, well, a distinguished person, whose name is on everybody's lips, who is honoured and praised by all his fellow- citizens. Now, that kind of man no Jinneeyeh could look down upon." " I perceive," said Fakrash, thoughtfully. " Yes, I was in danger of committing a rash action. How do men honour such distinguished individuals in these days?" "LET US KISS AND PART ! " 281 '• They generally overfeed them," said Horace. " In London the highest honour a hero can be paid is to receive the freedom of the City, which is only conferred in very exceptional cases, and for some notable service. But, of course, there are other sorts of celebrities, as you could see if you glanced through the society papers." " I cannot believe that thou, who seemest a gracious and talented young man, can be indeed so obscure as thou hast represented." " My good sir, any of the flowers that blush unseen in the desert air, or the gems concealed in ocean caves, so excellently described by one of our poets, could give me points and a beating in the matter of notoriety. I'll make you a sporting offer. There are over five million inhabitants in this London of ours. If you go out into the streets and ask the iirst five hundred you meet whether they know me, I don't mind betting you — what shall I say ? a new hat— that you won't find half a dozen who've ever even heard of my existence. Why not go out and see for yourself ? " To his surprise and gratification the Jinnee took this suggestion seriously. " I will go forth and make in- quiry," he said, "for I desire further enlightenment concerning thy statements. But, remember," he added : "should I still require thee to wed the matchless Bedeea-el-Jemal, and thou should'st disobey me, thou wilt bring disaster, not on thine own head, but on those thou art most desirous of protecting." 232 THE BRASS BOTTLE. " Yes, so yon told me before," said Horace, brusquely. "Good evening." Bnt FaUrasli was already gone. In spite of all he had g(nie through and the unknown difficulties before liim, Yentimore was seized with what Uncle Eemus calls "a spoil of the dry grins" at the thought of the probable replies that the Jinnee W(mM meet with in the course of his inf[uiries. " I'm afrai«l he won't be particularly impressed by the politeness of a London crowd," he thought ; " but at least they'll convince him that I am not exactly a prominent citizen. Then he'll give up this idiotic match of his — I don't know, though. He's such a pig-headed old fool that he may stick to it all the same. I may find myself encumbered with a Jinneeyeh bride several centuries my senior before I know where I am. No, I forgot ; there's the jealous Jarjarees to be polished off first. I seem to remember something about a quick-change combat with an Efreet in the ' Arabian Nights.' I may as well look it up, and see what may be in store for me." And after dinner he went to his shelves and took down Lane's three-volume edition of " The Arabian Nights," which he set himself to study with a new interest. It was long since he had looked into these wondrous tales, old beyond all human calculation, and fresher, even now, than the most modern of successful romances. After all, he was tempted to think, they might possess quite as much historical value as many works w'ith graver pretensions to accuracy. "LET US KISS AND PART ! " 233 He found a full account of the combat with the Efreet in " The Story of the Second Eoyal Mendicant " in the first volume, and was unpleasantly surprised to dis- cover that the Efreet's name was actually given as " Jarjarees, the son of Kejmoos, the son of Iblees" — evidently the same person to whom Fakrash had referred as his bitterest foe. He was described as " of hideous aspect," and had, it seemed, not only carried off the daughter of the Lord of the Ebony Island on her wedding night, but, on discovering her in the society of the Eoyal Mendicant, had revenged himself by striking off her hands, her feet, and her head, and transforming his human rival into an ape. " Between this fellow and old Fakrash," he reflected ruefully, at this point, " I seem likely to have a fairly lively time of it ! " He read on till he reached the memorable encounter between the King's daughter and Jarjarees, who pre- sented himself " in a most hideous shape, with hands like winnowing forks, and legs like masts, and eyes like burning torches " — which was calculated to un- nerve the stoutest novice. The Efreet began by transforming himself from a lion to a scorpion, upon which the Princess became a serpent ; then he changed to an eagle, and she to a vulture ; he to a black cat, and she to a wolf; he to a burst pomegranate, and she to a cock ; he to a fish, and she to a larger fish still. " If Fakrash can shove me through all that without 234 THE BRASS BOTTLE. a fatal hitch somewhere," Vcntimore told himself, " I shall be agreeably disappointed in liini." IJut, after reading a few more lines, he cheered up. For tlie Efreet finislied as a flame, and tlie Princess as a " b(jdy of fire." "And when we looked towards him," con- tinued the narrator, " we perceived tluit he liad become a heap of ashes." " Come," said Horace to himself, " that puts Jarjarees out of action, any way ! The odd tiling is that Fakrash should never have heard of it." But, as he saw on reflection, it was not so very odd, after all, as the incident had probably happened after the Jinnee had been consigned to his brass bottle, where intelligence of any kind would be most unlikely to reach him. He worked steadily through the whole of the second volume and part of the third ; but, although he picked up a certain amount of information upon Oriental habits and modes of thought and speech which might come in usefully later, it was not until he arrived at the 24th Chapter of the third volume tliat his interest really revived. For the 24th Chapter contained '•' The Story of Seyf- el-Mulook and Bedeea-el-Jemal," and it was only natural that he should be anxious to know all that there was to know concerning the antecedents of one who might be his fiancee before long. He read eagerly. Bedeea, it appeared, was the lovely daughter of "LET US KISS AND PAET ! » 235 Shaliyal, one of the Kings of tlie Believing Jann ; her father — not Fakrash himself, as the Jinnee had incor- rectly represented — had offered her in marriage to no less a personage than King Solomon himself, who, however, had preferred the Queen of Sheba. Seyf, the son of the King of Egypt, afterwards fell desperately in love with Bedeea, but she and her grandmother both declared that between mankind and the Jann there could be no agreement. " And Seyf was a King's son ! " commented Horace. " I needn't alarm myself. She wouldn't be likely to have anything to say to me. It's just as I told Fakrash." His heart grew lighter still as he came to the end, for he learnt that, after many adventures which need not be mentioned here, the devoted Seyf did actually succeed in gaining the proud Bedeea as his wife. " Even Fakrash could not propose to marry me to some one who has a husband already," he thought. " Still, she mmj be a widow ! " To his relief, however, the conclusion ran thus; " Seyf-el-Mulook lived with Bedeea-el-Jemal a most pleasant and agreeable life . . . until they were visited by the terminator of delights and the separator of companions." " If that means anything at all," he reasoned, " it means that Seyf and Bedeea are both deceased. Even a Jinneeyeh seems to be mortal. Or perhaps she 236 THE BRASS BOTTLE. became so by marrying a mortal ; I dare say that Fakrash bimself wouldn't have lasted all this time if he hadn't been bottled, like a tinned tomato. But I'm glad I found this out, because Fakrash is evidently unaware of it, and, if he should persist in any more of this nonsense, I think I see my way now to getting the better of him." So, with renewed hope and in vastly improved si)irits, he went to bed and was soon sound asleep. ( 237 ) CHAPTEE XV. BLUSHING HONOURS. It was rather late the next morning when Venti- more opened his eyes, to discover the Jinnee standing by the foot of his bed. "Oh, it's you, is it? " he said sleepily. " How did you — a — get on last night ? " " I gained such information as I desired," said Fakrash, guardedly ; " and now, for the last time, I am come to ask thee whether thou wilt still persist in refusing to wed the illustrious Bedeea-el- Jemal ? And have a care how thou answerest." "So you haven't given up the idea?" said Horace. "Well, since you make such a point of it, I'll meet you as far as this. If you produce the lady, and she consents to marry me, I won't decline the honour. But there's one condition I really must insist on." " It is not for thee to make stipulations. Still, yet this once I will hear thee." "I'm sure you'll see that it's only fair. Supposing, for any reason, you can't persuade the Princess to meet me within a reasonable time — shall we say a week ? " 238 THE BRASS BOTTLE. "Thou slialt be admitted to her presence within twenty-four hours," said the Jinnee. " That's better still. Then, if I don't see her within twenty -four hours, I am to be at 1 liberty to infer that the negotiations are off, and I may marry anybody else I please, without any t)pi)osition from you ? Is that understood ? " " It is agreed," said Fakrash, " for I am confident that Bedeea will accept thee joyfully." " We shall see," said Horace. " But it might Ije as well if you went and prepared her a little. I suppose you know where to find her — and you've only twenty- four hours, you know." " More than is needed," answered the Jinnee, w ith such childlike confidence, that Horace felt almost ashamed of so easy a victory. " But the sun is already high. Arise, my son, put on these robes " — and with this he flung on the bed the magnificent raiment which Yentimore had last worn on the night of his disastrous entertainment — " and when thou hast broken thv fast, prepare to accompany me." '• Before I agree to that," said Horace, sitting up in bed, " I should like to know^ where you're taking me to." " Obey me without demur," said Fakrash, " or thou knowest the consequences." It seemed to Horace that it was as well to humour him, and he got up accordingly, washed and shaved, and, putting on his dazzling robe of cloth-of-gold thickly BLUSHING HONOUES. 239 sewu with gems, he joined Fakrash — who, by the way, Avas similarly, if less gorgeously, arrayed — in the sitting- room, in a state of some mystification. " Eat quickly," commanded the Jinnee, " for the time is short." And Horace, after hastily disposing of a cold poached egg and a cup of coffee, happened to go to the windows. " Good heavens ! " he cried. " What does all this mean ? " He might well ask. On the opposite side of the road, by the railings of the square, a large crowd had collected, all staring at the house in eager expectation. As they caught sight of him they raised a cheer, which caused him to retreat in confusion, but not before he had seen a great golden chariot with six magnificent coal-black horses, and a suite of swarthy attendants in barbaric liveries, standing by the pavement below. " Whose carriage is that ? " he asked. " It belongs to thee," said the Jinnee ; " descend then, and make thy progress in it through the City." " I will not," said Horace. " Even to oblige you I simply can't drive along the streets in a thing like the band-chariot of a travelling circus." " It is necessary," declared Fakrash. " Must I again recall to thee the penalty of disobedience ? " "Oh, very well," said Horace, irritably. "If you insist on my making a fool of myself, I suj)pose I must. But where am I to drive, and why ? " 240 THE BRASS BOTTLE. " That," replied Fakrash, " thou shalt discover at the fitting moment." And so, amidst the shouts of the spectators, Yentimore climbed up into the strange- looking vehicle, while the Jinnee took his seat by his side. Horace had a parting glimpse of Mr. and Mrs. Kapkin's respective noses flattened against the base- ment window, and then two dusky slaves mounted to a seat at the back of the chariot, and the horses started off at a stately trot in the direction of Rochester Row. " I think you might tell me what all this means," he said. " 1' ou've no conception what an ass I feel, stuck up here like this ! " " Dismiss bashfulness from thee, since all this is designed to render thee more acceptable in the eyes of the Princess Bedeea," said the Jinnee. Horace said no more, though he could not but think that this parade would be thrown away. But as they turned into Victoria Street and seemed to be heading straight for the Abbey, a horrible thought occurred to him. After all, his only authority for the marriage and decease of Bedeea was the " Arabian Nights," which was not unimpeachable evidence. "What if she were alive and waiting for the arrival of the bridegroom ? No one but Fakrash would have con- ceived such an idea as marrying him to a Jinneeyeh in Westminster Abbey ; but he was capable of any extravagance, and there were apparently no limits to his power. BLUSHINa HONOURS. 241 " Mr. Fakrash," he said hoarsely, " surely this isn't my — my wedding day ? You're not going to have the ceremony there 9 " "Nay," said the Jinnee, "be not impatient. For this edifice would be totally unfitted for the celebration of such nuptials as thine." As he spoke, the chariot left the Abbey on the right and turned down the Embankment. The relief was so intense that Horace's spirits rose irrepressibly. It was absurd to suppose that even Fakrash could have arranged the ceremony in so short a time. He was merely being taken "for a drive, and fortunately his best friends could not recognise him in his Oriental disguise. And it was a glorious morning, with a touch of frost in the air and a sky of streaky turquoise and pale golden clouds; the broad river glittered in the sun- shine ; the pavements were lined with admiring crowds, and the carriage rolled on amidst frantic enthusiasm, like some triumphal car. " How they're cheering us ! " said Horace. " Why, they couldn't make more row for the Lord Mayor himself." " What is this Lord Mayor of whom thou speakest ? " inquired Fakrash. "The Lord Mayor?" said Horace. "Oh, he's unique. There's nobody in the world quite like him. He administers the law, and if there's any distress in any part of the earth he relieves it. He entertains R 242 THE BRASS BOTTLE. monarclis and Princes and all kinds of potentates at his banquets, and altogether he's a tremendous swell." " Hath he dominion over the earth and the air and all that is therein ? " " Within his own precincts, I believe he has," said Horace, rather hazily, " but I really don't know pre- cisely how wide his powers are." He was vainly trying to recollect whether such matters as sky-signs, tele- phones, and telegraphs in the City were within the Lord Mayor's jurisdiction or the County Council's. Fakrash remained silent just as they were driving underneath Charing Cross Eailway Bridge, when he started perceptibly at the thunder of the trains over- head and the piercing whistles of the engines. " Tell me," he said, clutching Horace by the arm, " what meaneth this ? " " You don't mean to say," said Horace, " that you have been about London all these days, and never noticed things like these before ? " " Till now," said the Jinnee, " I have had no leisure to observe them and discover their nature." " Well," said Horace, anxious to let the Jinnee see that he had not the monopoly of miracles, " since your day we have discovered how to tame or chain the great forces of Nature and compel them to do our will. We control the Spirits of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, and make them give us light and heat, carry our messages, fight our quarrels for us, transport us wherever we BLUSHING HONOURS. 243 wish to go, with a certainty and precision that throw even your performances, my dear sir, entirely into the shade." Considering what a very large majority of civilised persons would be as powerless to construct the most elementary machine as to create the humblest kind of horse, it is not a little odd how complacently we credit ourselves with all the latest achievements of our gene- ration. Most of us accept the amazement of the simple-minded barbarian on his first introduction to modern inventions as a gratifying personal tribute : we feel a certain superiority, even if we magnanimously refrain from boastfulness. And yet our own particular share in these discoveries is limited to making use of them under expert guidance, which any barbarian, after overcoming his first terror, is quite as competent to do as we are. It is a harmless vanity enough, and especially pardonable in Ventimore's case, when it was so desir- able to correct any tendency to " uppishness " on the part of the Jinnee. " And doth the Lord Mayor dispose of these forces at his will ? " inquired Fakrash, on whom Ventimore's explanation had evidently produced some impression. " Certainly," said Horace ; " whenever he has occasion." The Jinnee seemed engrossed in his own thoughts, for he said no more just then. 244 THE BRASS BOTTLE. They were now nearing St. Paul's Cathedral, and Horace's first suspicion returned with (hjuble force. " Mr. Fakrash, answer me," he said. " Is this my wedding day or not ? If it is, it's time I was told ! " "Not yet," said the Jinnee, enigmatically, and indeed it proved to be another false alarm, for they turned down Cannon Street and towards the ]\Iansion House. " Perhaps you can tell me why we're going througli Victoria Street, and what all this crowd has come out for ? " asked Yentimore. For the throng was denser than ever ; the people surged and swayed in serried ranks behind the City police, and gazed with a wonder and awe that for once seemed to have entirely silenced the Cockney instinct of i:)ersijiage. " For what else but to do thee honour ? " answered Fakrash. " What bosh 1 " said Horace. " They mistake me for the Shah or somebody — and no wonder, in this get-up." " Not so," said the Jinnee. " Thv names are familiar to them." Horace glanced up at the hastily improvised decora- tions ; on one large strip of bunting which spanned the street he read : " Welcome to the City's most distinguished guest ! " " They can't mean me," he thought ; and then another legend caught his eye : "Well done, Yentimore!" And an enthusiastic BLUSHING HONOURS. 245 householder next door had burst into poetry and displayed the couplet : — , " Would we had twenty more Like Horace Ventimore ! " " They do mean me ! " he exclaimed. " Now, Mr. Fakrash, will you kindly explain what tomfoolery you've been up to now ? I know you're at the bottom of this business." It struck him that the Jinnee was slightly em- barrassed. " Didst thou not say," he replied, " that he who should receive the freedom of the City from his fellow- men would be worthy of Bedeea-el-Jemal ? " " I may have said something of the sort. But, good heavens ! you don't mean that you have contrived that I should receive the freedom of the City ? " " It was the easiest affair possible," said the Jinnee, but he did not attempt to meet Horace's eye. " Was it, though ? " said Horace, in a white rage. " I don't want to be inquisitive, but I should like to know what I've done to deserve it ? " " Why trouble thyself with the reason ? Let it suffice thee that such honour is bestowed upon thee." By this time the chariot had crossed Cheapside and was entering King Street. " This really won't do ! " urged Horace. " It's not fair to me. Either I've done something, or you must have made the Corporation lelieve I've done something, to be received like this. And, as we shall be in the 246 THE BEASS BOTTLE. Guildhall in a very few seconds, you may as well tell me what it is ! " "Regarding that matter," rej^lied the Jinnee, in some confusion, " I am truly as ignorant as thyself." As he spoke they drove through some temporary wooden gates into the courtyard, where the Honourable Artillery Company presented arms to them, and the carriage drew uj) before a large marquee decorated with shields and clustered banners. " Well, Mr. Fakrash," said Horace, with suppressed fury, as he alighted, " you have surpassed yourself this time. You've got me into a nice scrape, and you'll have to pull me through it as well as you can." " Have no uneasiness," said the Jinnee, as he accom- panied his protege into the marquee, which was brilliant with j)retty women in smart frocks, officers in scarlet tunics and plumed hats, and servants in State liveries. Their entrance was greeted by a politely-subdued buzz of applause and admiration, and an official, who introduced himself as the Prime Warden of the Candlestick-makers' Company, advanced to meet them. " The Lord Mayor will receive you in the library," he said. "If you will have the kindness to follow me " Horace followed him mechanically. "I'm in for it now," he thought, " whatever it is. If I can only trust Fakrash to back me up— but I'm hanged if I don't believe he's more nervous than I am !" BLUSHING HONOURS. 247 As they came into the noble Library of the Guildhall a fine string band struck uj), and Horace, with the Jinnee in his rear, made his way through a lane of distinguished spectators towards a dais, on the steps of which, in his gold-trimmed robes and black-feathered hat, stood the Lord Mayor, with his sword and mace- bearers on either hand, and behind him a row of beaming sheriffs. A truly stately and imposing figure did the Chief Magistrate for that particular year present : tall, dignified, with a lofty forehead whose polished temples reflected the light, an aquiline nose, and piercing black eyes under heavy white eyebrows, a frosty pink in his wrinkled cheeks, and a flowing silver beard with a touch of gold still lingering under the lower lip : he seemed, as he stood there, a worthy representative of the greatest and richest city in the world. Horace approached the steps with an unpleasant sensation of weakness at the knees, and no sort of idea what he was expected to do or say when he arrived. And, in his perplexity, he turned for support and guidance to his self-constituted mentor — only to dis- cover tha,t the Jinnee, whose short-sightedness and ignorance had planted him in his present false position, had mysteriously and perfidiously disappeared, and left him to grapple with the situation single-handed. 248 THE BRASS BOTTLE. CHAPTER XVr. A KILLING FROST. Fortunately fur Yeutimore, the momentary dismay he had felt on finding liimself deserted by his unfatliom- able Jinnee at the very outset of the ceremony passed unnoticed, as the Prime Warni tlie loud and unani- mous cheering). However, for reasons which — for reasons with which tlicy were as well ac(^uainted as himself, the notice had Ijeen short. Tlie Corj)orati(jn had yielded (as they always did, as it would always be their pride and pleasure to yield) to ]>oj)!ihir pressure which was practically irresistible, and iiad done the best they could in the limited — he might almost say the unprecedentedly limited — period allowed them. The proudest leaf in Mr. A'entimore's chaplet of laurels to- day was, he would venture to assert, the sight of the extraordinary enthusiasm and assemblage, not only in that noble hall, but in the thoroughfares of this mighty Metropolis. Under the circumstances, this was a marvellous tribute to the admiration and aftection which Mr. Ventimore had succeeded in inspiring in the great heart of the people, rich and i:>oor, high and low. He would not detain his hearers any longer ; all that remained for him to do was to ask Mr. A^entimore's acceptance of a golden casket containing the roll of freedom, and he felt sure that their distinguished guest, before proceeding to inscribe his name on the register, would oblige them all by some account from his own lips of — of the events in which he had figured so prominently and so creditably. Horace received the casket mechanically ; there was A KILLING FEOST. 257 a universal cry of " Speech ! " from the audience, to which he replied by shaking his head in helpless depre- cation—but in vain; he found himself irresistibly pressed towards the rail in front of the dais, and the roar of applause which greeted him saved him from all necessity of attempting to speak for nearly two minutes. During that interval he had time to clear his brain and think what he had better do or say in his present unenviable dilemma. For some time past a suspicion had been growing in his mind, until it had now almost swollen into certaintv. He felt that, before he com- promised himself, or allowed his too generous enter- tainers to compromise themselves irretrievably, it was absolutely necessary to ascertain his real position, and, to do that, he must make some sort of speech. With this resolve, all his nervousness and embarrassment and indecision melted away ; he faced the assembly coolly and gallantly, convinced that his best alternative now lay in perfect candour. " 3Iy Lord Mayor, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen," he began, in a clear voice which penetrated to the farthest gallery and commanded instant attention. " If you expect to hear from me' any description of what I've done to be received like this, I'm afraid you will be disappointed. For my own belief is that I've done nothing whatever." There was a general outcry of " No, no ! " at this, and a fervid murmur of protest. S 258 THE BRASS BOTTLE. " It's all very well to say ' No, no,' " said Horace, " and I am extremely grateful to you all for the inter- ruption. Still, I can only repeat that I am absolutely unaware of having ever rendered my Country, or this great City, a single service deserving of the slightest acknowledgment. I wish I could feel I had— but the simple truth is that, if I have, the fact has entirely slipped from my memory." Again there were murmurs, this time with a certain under-current of irritation ; and he could hear the Lord IMayor bolund him remarking to the City Chamberlain that tliis was not at all tlie kind of speech for the occasion. " I know what you're tliinking," said Horace. *' You're thinking this is mock modesty on my part. But it's nothing of the sort. / don't know what I've done — but I presume you are all better informed. Because tlie Corporation wouldn't have given me that very charming casket — you wouldn't all of you be here like this — unless you were under a strong im- pression that I'd done something to deserve it." At this there was a fresh outburst of applause. " Just so," said Horace, calmly. " A\ ell, now, will any of you be kind enough to tell me, in a few words, irJiat you suppose I've done ? " There was a dead silence, in which every one looked at his or her neighbour and smiled feebly. " My Lord Mayor," continued Horace, " I appeal to A KILLING FROST. 259 you to tell me and this distinguislied assembly why on earth we're all here ! " The Lord Mayor rose. " I think it sufficient to say," he announced, with dignity, " that the Corporation and myself were unanimously of opinion that this distinction should be awarded — for reasons which it is unnecessary and — hum — ha— invidious to enter into here." " I am sorry," persisted Horace, " but I must press your lordship for those reasons. I have an object. . . . Will the City Chamberlain oblige me, then ? . . . No ? Well, then, the Town Clerk ? . . . No ? — it's just as I suspected : none of you can give me your reasons, and shall I tell you why ? Because there aren't any. . . . Now, do bear with me for a moment. I'm quite aware this is very embarrassing for all of you — but remember that it's infinitely more awkward for me ! I really cannot accept the freedom of the City under any suspicion of false pretences. It would be a poor reward for your hospitality, and base and unpatriotic into the bargain, to depreciate the value of so great a distinction by permitting it to be conferred unworthily. If, after you've heard what I am going to tell you, you still insist on my accepting such an honour, of course I will not be so ungracious as to refuse it. But I really don't feel that it would be right to inscribe my name on your EoU of Fame without some sort of explanation. If I did, I might, for anything I know, involuntarily be signing the death-warrant of the Corporation ! " 2 GO THE BRASS BOTTLE. There was a breathless hush upon this ; tlic silence grew so iutense that to borrow a slightly iuvolved metaphor from a distinguished friend of tiie writer's, "you might have picked up a i»in in it!" Horace leaned sideways against the rail in an easy attitude, so as to face the Lord ^Mayor, as well as a portion of his audience. "Before I go any farther," ho sai'l, " will your lord- ship pardon me if I suggest that it might be as well to direct that all reporters present should immediately withdraw ? " The reporters' table was instantly in a stir of anger, and many of the guests expressed some dissatisfaction. " We, at least," said the Lord 31ayor, rising, flushed with annoyance, " have no reason to dread publicity. I decline to make a hole-and-corner affair of this. I shall give no such orders." "Very well," said Horace, when the chorus of approval had subsided. "My suggestion was made quite as much in the Corporation's interests as in mine. I merely thought that, when you all clearly understood how grossly you've been deluded, you might prefer to have the details kept out of the newspapers if possible. But if you particularly want them published over the whole world, why, of course " An uproar followed here, under cover of which the Lord Mayor contrived to give orders to have the doors fastened till further directions. A KILLING FROST. 261 *' Don't make this more difficult aud disagreeable for me than it is already ! " said Horace, as soon as he could obtain a hearing again. "You don't suppose that I should have come here in this Tom-fool's dress, imposing myself on the hospitality of this great City, if I could have helped it! If you've been brought here under false pretences, so have I. If you've been made to look rather foolish, what is your situation to mine ? The fact is, I am the victim of a headstrong force which I am utterly unable to control. ..." Upon this a fresh uproar arose, and prevented him from continuing for some time. " I only ask for fair l^lay and a patient hearing ! " he pleaded. " Give me that, and I will undertake to restore you all to good humour before I have done." They calmed down at this appeal, and he was able to proceed. " My case is simply this," he said. " A little time ago I happened to go to an auction and buy a large brass bottle. ..." For some inexplicable reason his last words roused the audience to absolute frenzy ; they would not hear anything about the brass bottle. Every time he attempted to mention it they howled him down, they hissed, they groaned, they shook their fists ; the din was positively deafening. Nor was the demonstration confined to the male portion of the assembly. One lady, indeed, who is a prominent leader in society, but whose name shall not ^2C>2 TllK r.KASS l'.UT'11-H. be divulged here, wiis so curried uuuy by her feelings as to burl a beavy cut-'^dass b(.ttlo of smelling? Halts at Horace's olTendiiip; bead. Fortunately, for bim, it missed bim and only eaugbt one of tbe oflicials (Horace was not inamoofl t<» notice details very accurately, but be bad a notion tbat it was tbc City Kcmcmbrancer) somewbere about tbe region of tbe watcb-jxjcket. "Will you bear me out?" Ventimore sbouted. "I'm not trifling. I baven't told you yet wbat was inside tbe bottle, ^^'ben I opened it, I found ..." He got no fartbcr — for, as tbe words left bis lijjs, be felt bimself seized by tbe collar of bis robe anr reminding me thereof." " Not at all," said Ventimore. " 1 shall be delighted to come and seal you up comfortably my.self." "Again thou speake.st folly," exclaimed the Jinnee. " How canst thou seal me up after I have dashed thee into a thousand pieces ? " "That," .said Horace, with all the url»anity he couhl command, " is precisely the difliculty I was trying to convey." "There will be no difficulty, for as .soon as I am in the bottle I shall summon certain inferior Efreets, and they will replace the seal." " When you are once in the bottle," said Horace, at a venture, " you probably won't be in a position to summon anybody." " Before I get into the bottle, then ! " said the Jinnee, impatiently. " Thou dost but juggle with words ! " " But about those Efreets," persisted Horace. " You know what Efreets are ! How can you be sure that, when they've got you in the bottle, they won't hand you over to the Lord Mayor ? I shouldn't trust them myself— but, of course, you know best ! " " Whom shall I trust, then ? " said Fakrash, frowniuir. A GAME OF BLUFF. 285 " I'm sui-e I don't know. It's rather a pity you're so determined to destroy me, because, as it happens, I'm just the one person living who could be depended on to seal you up and keep your secret. However, that's your affair. After all, why should I care what becomes of you ? I shan't be there ! " " Even at this hour," said the Jinnee, undecidedly, " I might find it in my heart to spare thee, were I but sure that thou wouldst be faithful unto me ! " " I should have thought I was more to be trusted than one of your beastly Efreets ! " said Horace, with well-assumed indifference. " But never mind, I don't know that I care, after all, I've nothing particular to live for now. You've ruined me pretty thoroughly, and you may as well finish your work. I've a good mind to jump over, and save you the trouble. Perhaps, when you see me bouncing down that dome, you'll be sorry ! " " Refrain from rashness ! " said the Jinnee, hastily, without suspecting that Ventimore had no serious intention of carrying out his threat. " If thou wilt do as thou art bidden, I will not only pardon thee, but fjrant thee all that thou desirest." " Take me back to Vincent Square first," said Horace. " This is not the place to discuss business." "Thou sayest rightly," replied the Jinnee; "hold fast to my sleeve, and I will transport thee to thine abode." 286 THE BRASS BOTTLE. "Not till you promise tu play lair," .sai<»ttles is made o' glorss." "Well, a jar, tlien — a big brass pot — anything of that kind ? " " Don't keep 'em," said the boy, and burietl himself once more in his copy of " J^picy Sniggers." "I'll just look round," said Horace, an Ixiit. aiieries, like some blundering old bee vainly endeavouring to hit the opening into his hive. " llx. Fakrash," he cried, " before you go any farther, listen to me. There's no real necessity, after all, for you to go back to your bottle. If you'll only wait a little " But the Jinnee, who had now swelled to gigantic proportions, and whose form and features were only dimly recognisable through the wreaths of black Tapour in which he was involved, answered him from A GAME OP BLUFF. 301 his pillar of smoke in a terrible voice. "Woiildst thou still persuade me to linger ? " he cried. " Hold thy peace and be ready to fulfil thine undertaking." " But, look here," persisted Horace. " I should feel such a brute if I sealed you up without telling you " The whirling and roaring column, in sliape like an inverted cone, was being fast sucked down into the vessel, till only a semi-materialised but highly infuriated head was left above the neck of the bottle. " Must I tarry," it cried, " till the Lord Mayor arrive with his Memlooks, and the hour of safety is expired ? By my head, if thou delayest another instant, I will put no more faith in thee ! And I will come forth once more, and afflict thee and thy friends— ay, and all the dwellers in this accursed city— with the most painful and unheard-of calamities." And, with these words, the head sank into the bottle with a loud claj) resembling thunder. Horace hesitated no longer. The Jinnee himself had absolved him from all further scruples ; to imperil 8ylvia and her parents — not to mention all London — out of consideration for one obstinate and obnoxious old demon, would clearly be carrying sentiment much too far. Accordingly, he made a rush for the jar and slipped the metal cover over the mouth of the neck, which was so hot that it blistered his fingers, and, seizing 30'J TIIK I5RASS I'.OTTLE. the pukor, lie luiminered down tlie secret catch until the litl lit tod lus tdoscly aa Suloynmii liitiisclf couM have reijuired. Thuii he stiifltMl the bottle into a kit-huf^, addiii*^ a few I'oals to {i;ivo it extra weight, and toikd off witli it to the nearest steamboat pier, Nshero he sj»ent his remainin;jj pence in pnnhasin'; a ticket tn flio Temple. • • • • • Next day the f(dlo\vin^' para^'rajih api»eared in ono of the evening papers, which probably had more space than usual at its disposal : — "Singular Occurrence i»n a I'jinny Steamkr. " A gentleman on board one of the Thames steam- boats (so we are informed by an eye-witness) met with a somewhat ludicrous mishap yesterday evening. It appears that he had with him a small portmanteau, or large hand-bag, which he was supporting on the rail of the stern bulwark. Just as the vessel was opposite the Savoy Hotel he incautiously raised his hand to the brim of his hat, thereby releasing hold of the bag, which overbalanced itself and fell into the deepest part of the river, where it instantly sank. The ow ner (whose carelessness occasioned considerable amusement to passengers in his immediate vicinity) appeared no little disconcerted by the oversight, and was not un- naturally reticent as to the amount of his loss, though A GAME OP BLUFF. 303 he was understood to state that the bag contained nothing of any great vahie. However this may be, he has probably learnt a lesson which will render him more careful in future." no I TIIIO 15KASS nOITLK. Tin: i:iMi. I»o tlio guest of the evening, as the dinner was given by way »>f celebrating the <'oni|>letioii of the host's new country liouse at Lipslield, of which Horace was the architect, and also to congratulate him on his api^'oaching uuirriage (which was lixecut *ein ull, if he's j^'ivon the chaiico. I'm niV to sue him now.' An-l c.fl' I wi-nt to (Ircat Ch)ister Street (for lie hadn't tliust* ituhitiul <»flice8 of liis in Virtoria Street, at that time) witliout Kwinjj unotlier instant, and ilr.>j.|>ed in on Itim with my liltlo commission, niilnl I, N'entimoro?" "Yon did indeeil," said Horace, wondering how far these reminiscences wonM go. " And," contintied Mr. Wackerbath, pat ting Honu'C on the shonhlcr, " from that »hiy t«> this I've never had a moment's rca-sun to regret it. We've worked in perfect symitathy. His ideas coincided with mine. I think hu found tliat I met him, so to sjieak, on all fours." Ventimore assented, though it struck iiini that a happier expression might, and w«»uld, have been era- ployed if his client had remembered one particiilar interview in which he had not figured to advantage. They went in to dinner, in a room sumptuously decorated with panels of grey-green br«_»cade and softly shaded himps, and screens of gilded leather ; through the centre of the table rose a tall palm, its boughs hung with small electric globes like magic fruits. " This palm," said the Prtifessor, who was in high good humour, " really gives quite an Oriental look to the table. Personally, I think we might reproduce the Arabian style of decoration and arrangement generally THE EPILOGUE. 307 in our homes with great advantage. I often wonder it never occurred to my future son-in-law there to turn his talents in that direction and design an Oriental interior for himself. Nothing more comfortable and luxurious — for a bachelor's purposes." " I'm sure," said his wife, " Horace managed to make himself quite comfortable enough as it was. lie has the most delightful rooms in Vincent Square." Venti- more heard her remark to Sir Lawrence: "I shall never forget the first time we dined there, just after my daughter and he were engaged. I was quite astonished : everything was so perfect — quite simple, you know, but so ingeniously arranged, and his land- lady such an excellent cook, too ! Still, of course, in mauv wavs, it will be nicer for him to have a home of his own." '' ^^'ith such a beautiful and charming companion to share it with," said Sir Lawrence, in his most florid manner, " the — ah — poorest home would prove a Para- dise indeed ! And I suppose now, my dear young hidv," he added, raising his voice to address Sylvia, " you are busy making your future abode as exquisite as taste and research can render it, ransacking all the furniture shops in London for treasures, and going about to auctions— or do you — ah — delegate that department to Mr. Yentimore ? " " I do go about to old furniture shops. Sir Lawrence," she said, " but not auctions. I'm afraid I should only 308 THE im ASS dottle. get just tlie tliinp: I didn't wnnt if I triod to bid. . . . And," sho added, in ii lower voire, tnrnin^ tit more successful, Horace ! " " Wliat iiiiiK'os you f^ay tliat. Sylvia?" he asked, with a start. "Why, do you lucau to say you've ft»rgotten how you went to that auction for papa, and came away without haviui; managed to get a single thing ? " she said. " What a short memory you must have ! " There was only tender uKJckery in her eyes ; abso- lutely no recollection of the sinister pundiose ho had made at that sale, or how nearly it had separateI> SONS, LUIIIED, LOSPOS XX.D BEtCLES. WORKS by F. flfJSTEY. THE TALKING HORSE; and other Tales. Popular Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. Cheap Edition. Crown 8vo. limp red cloth, 2s. 6./. FroTi The Saturday Bei'iew.—' A capital set of stories, thoroughly clever and witty, often pathetic, and always humorous.' From The Athena-ittn.—' The grimmest of mortals, in his most surly mood, could hardly resist the fun of " The Talking Horse.'' ' THE GIANT'S ROBE. Popular Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. Cheap Edition. Crown 8vo, limp red cloth, 2s. 6d. From The Pall Mall Gasette.—' The main interest of the book, which is very strong indeed, begins when Vincent returns, when Harold Caftyn discovers the secret, when everi' page threatens to bring down doom on the head of the miserable Mark. Will he confess? Will he drown himself ? Will Vincent denounce him? Will Caffyn inform on him ? Will his wife abandon him ?— we ask eagerly as we r.-ad, and cannot cease reading till the puzzle is solved in a series of e.xciting situations.' THE PARI.AH. Popular Edition. Crown 8vo. 6i-. Cheap Edition. Crown 8vo. limp red cloth, 2s. 6d. From The Safiii'day Review. — ' In " The Pariah " we are more than ever struck by the sharp intuitive perception and the satirical balancing of judgment which makes the author's writings such extremely entertaining reading. There is not a dull page— we might say, not a dull sentence — in it. . . . The girls are delightfully drawn, especially the l)ewitching Margot and the childish Lettice. Nothing that polish and finish, clever- ness, humour, wit and sarcasm can give us is left out.' VICE VER5A ; or, A Lesson to Fathers. Cheap Edition, Crown Svo. limp red cloth, 2s. 6d. From The .Saturday Itcview.—' If ever there wasa book made up from beginning to end of laiigliter, and yet not a comic book, or a " merry " book, or a book of jokes, or a book of pictures, or a jest book, or a tom-fool book, but a perfectly sober and serious b >ok, in the reading of which a sober man may laugh without shame from beginning to tiid, it is the book called "Vice Versa; or, A Lesson to Fathers." . . . We close the b.jok, recommending it verj' earnestly to all fathers in the first instance, and their sons, nephews, uncles, and male cousin= next.' A FALLEN IDOL. Cheap Edition. Crown Svo. limp red cloth, 2J. 6J. From The Times.—' Will delight the multitudinous public that laughed over "Vice Versa.'' . . . The boy who i>rings the accursed image to Champion's house, Mr. Bales, the artist's factotum, and, above all, Mr. Yarker, the ex-butler who has turned police- man, are figures whom it is as pleasant to meet as it is impossible to forget.' LYRE AND LANCET. With 24 Full-page Illustrations. Square i6mo. 3^'. From The Speaker.— ' '^Ir. Anstey has surpassed himself in "Lyre and Lancet." One of thi brightest and most entertaining bits of comedy we have had for many a day.' From The Globe.—' The little book is amusing from beginning to end.' From The Scotsman.— 'The story makes most delightful reading, full of quiet fun.' London: SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 Waterloo Place. Y WORKS BY JAMES PAYN. 'A ttttUr >:k'> LK. Tl\e Difiappearaiice of George Driffdl. THE SI'KAKKK ■ Mr ' THK ATMKNiliUM. ' ' cooil »I>ilit^ aii'l t' ' ■ iHt DA 1 1 (lc\i>cJ ami vi\i ij , . .^, ., iiiCcrcit bulili us lu (lie end.' V GLEAMS OF MEMORY; WITH SOME REFLECTIONS. THE WORLD. -'Of »11 Jaiiici ^ayll'^ " ' •' - ■'" "' '■''■ aiialvNrii iir ciitH PUNCH.— v,. stories of the day, but slorics ib •r yi-i- Mr. * L' ' t. lu Lie ! oaty MOM of tit* bM* votd »|>uil> (be (ra^' • One of the pUasaittiii l^-^^-i :-.^ '.m a;j(d: ^ • v , mouth. . . . For that reason, if : e readers ia a.i'un; one c.in exiK-ct t.> come aero-..' THE ATHENiCUM.— • Mr. I'.^vn has •]«r«y» taken • cheerful »»ewof Ufe. bat ia "The Heirof tlic Apcs^'hcfur; elf. . . . T': . ' "' " "■ ' '■■' iHE ACADEMY.— 'A- clever, a e- ccssors. In one respect — name y, a- ' 'car, »\ i ; -i; ■•■^i- . a.-.u ^:ji ui^ i,<:^.i.t.ii»c« of character — it is almost superior to < by the taine wnt«».' • FLasant and unassuming papers.'— "SI KSCHlSTZVi GfARDIAN. With a Portrait, and .-. Memoir bv Lf^'..:e STETHrv. Crown 8vo fr. THE BACKWATER OF LIFE; OR, ESSAYS OF A LITERARY VETERAN. sMr. ATHEN^UM. — 'Even those who know not Paj-n car r' Stephen's admirable pages, something of the esteem and ler.irr: brought into either sociid or business relations «-iih him felt for ibe huutwiwins fpanioti and gentle critic' TIMES. — ' The selection has been judiciously made. His r "' Tn to hear in "The Pack water of Life : or, Es^ys cifa Literary Vc: cs of the familiar voice.' London: SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 Waterloo Place, S.W. NEW EDITION OF W. M. TH ACKERAY'S WORKS. In i-i Volumes, Large crown 8vo. cloth, gilt top, 6s. each THE BIOGRAPHICAL EDITION OF W. M. THACKERAY'S COMPLETE WORKS. THIS NEW AND REVISED EDITION COMPRISES ADDITIONAL MATERIAL and HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED LETTERS, SKETCHES, and DRAWINGS, Dtrivcd/rom the Author' s Original Maniiscripts and Note-Books. AND EACH VOLUME INCLUDES A MEMOIR, IN THE FORM OF AN INTRODUCTION, By Mrs. RICHMOND RITCHIE. IW The 13 Volumes are also supplied in Set cloth binding gilt ton. price £3. 18s. Od. a. 3< 4. S- 6. 7. 8. 9< 10. II. I a. ■ 3- VANITY FAIR. With 20 Full-page Illustratio- , 11 Woodcuts, a Facsimile Inciter, and a new Portrait. PRNDENNIS. With 20 Full-page Illustraticns and 10 Woodcuts. VELLOWPLUSM PAPERS, &c. With 24 Full-page Reproductions of Steel Plates by George Cruh'SHANK, 11 Woodcuts, and a Portrait of the Author by Maclise. THE AlEMOIRS OF BARRY LYNDON : THE FITZBOODLE PAPER5, &c. With 16 Full-page Illustrations by J. E. Millais, R.A., Luke Fildes, A.R.A., and the Author, and 14 Woodcuts. SKETCH BOOKS:-THE PARIS SKETCH BOOK; THE IRISH SKETCH BOOK; NOTES OF A JOURNEY FROM CORNHILL TO GRAND CAIRO, &c. With 16 Full-page Illustrations, 39 Woodcuts, and a Portrait of the Author by Maclise. CONTRIBUTIONS TO 'PUNCH' «&c With 20 Full-page Illustrations, 26 Woodcuts, and an Engraving of the Author from a Portrait by Samuel Laurknce. THE HISTORY OF HENRY ESMOND; and THE LECTURES. With 20 Full-page Illustrations by George DU Maurier, F. Barnard, and Frank DiCKSKE, R..\., and 11 Woodcuts. THE NEWCOMES. With 20 Full-page Illustrations by Richard Doyle and II Woodcuts. CHRISTAIAS BOOKS, &c. With 97 Full-page Illustrations, 122 Woodcuts, and a P'acsimile Letter. THE VIRGINIANS. With 20 Full-page Illustrations, 6 Woodcuts, a Photo ^ravure, and a new Portrait. _ _ THE ADVENTURES OF PHILIP; and A SHABBY GENTEEL STORY. With 24 Full-page Illustrations by Frederick Walker and the Author, 6 Woodcuts, a Facsimile of MS., and 2 Facsimile Letters. LOVEL THE WIDOWER; ROUNDABOUT PAPERS; DENIS DUVAL, &C. With 20 Full-page and 11 Text Illustrations by Frederick Walker, A.R.A., Charles Keene, and the Author, and 2 pages of MS. m facsimile. . _ „ „, . , . BALLADS AND MISCELLANIES. With 35 Full-page Illustrations by the Author, George Cruikshank and John Leech, 35 Woodcuts, 3 Portraits ot Thackeray's Ancestors, an Engraving of the Author from a Drawing by Samuel Laurknce, and a Photogravure, from a Drawing by Chinnerv, of 1 hackerav at the age of 3, with his Father and Mother. The volume also contains a Lite . by Cti.«rl/Htc Ufontc. , .„ , TH K. I'Kol- KS:-( H<. Hy Cturlollc Uroiitd. To wh»ch *n adUcd the Pocmt of Citiilutic, Emily, iiiiil Aiuic Brume. Djr Anne Brooic By Mrs. GASKELL. WIVES AND DAUGHTERS. NORTH ANT) SOUIH. SVI.VIAS LOVKR.S. CRANFORU. ANu other Tales. MAkV IIARTOV. AKO OTMM Talw. KUTH. ANi> oTiiKu Tale*. LIZZIK LKIGH. anij otii«« Talbv. LIKE OK CHARLO nt URONTt. By LEIGH HUNT. IMAGINATKJN AND FANCY: or, Sclcctioni from ihe EnjjlUh Pottt. TIIK TOWN : lis MchdmLIc CharaLlcr\ anJ EvcnU. lU mtfa lcd. AUrOHIOC.KAI'HYOI- I.F.IC.H HI7ST ^ . ,. MKN WOMF.N, ANDIiOOKS ' Eiiay», ind CnUcal Memouk. Wrr AND HU.MOKK: Sclc.icl A JAR OF MONEY FRO.M M(JL.^l ii>i.i..v, i, .xccl» from Sicily in PatucuLix, and r.Lstor.il I'oclry in CicncrAL „., TABLE TALK. To which arc Eddcd IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS OK POPK AND swirr. Uniform with THE SMALL HOUSE .\T ALLING- TON. By Anthony TroIlojK;. THE CLAVERINGS. By Anthony Trolloiie. | FRAMLEY PARSONAGE. By Anthony Trollope. ROMOLA. By George ElioL TRANSFORMATION. By Nathaniel Hawthorne. DEERBROOK. Bv Harriet Martineau. HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION. By Harriet Martineau. LECTURES ON THE ENGLISH HUMOURISTS OF THE EIGH- TEENTH CENTURY. By W. M. Thackeray. the ahcrve. PAUL THE POPE AND PAUL THE FRIAR. Hy T. A Trollof*. THE ROSE-GARDEN. By ihe AuU.i^r of 'Unaware..' CHRONICLES Oi "" A TaIc of Modem ■ >'• By the Author ol " i.' -a •: • i .^irv.* IN THE SILVER AGE. By Holme Lee. CARITA. By Mrs. 01ii.1..-vnt. WIIHIN THE PRECINCTS. By .Mrs. Oliphant. SOME L11ER.\RY RECOLLEC- TIONS. By lames Pa\-n. EXTRACTS FROM 1 MK WRITINGS OF W. .M. THACKtR.\V. FALLING IN LOVE: with oibcr Essays. By Grant Allen. Also the following in limp red doth, crown 8vo, 2X. ti. each- A BRIDE FROM THE BUSH. By E. V.'. Hornuns. THE STORY OF ABIBAL THE TSOU- RL\N. Edited by Val C. Prinsep, A.R.A. HOLID.W PAPERS. Second Series. By the Rev. Harr>' Jones. VICE VERSA. By F. Anstey A FALLEN IDOL. By F. Anstey. THE TALKING HORSE : and other Tales. Bv F. Anstey. THE PARIAH. By F.' Anstey. THE GIANT'S ROBE. By F. Anstey. THE VAGABONDS. By Maisarci 1^ Woc^ds. „ ^ THE MARTYRED FOOL. By D. Christie Murray. GRA N I A. The story of an Island. By the Hon. Emily Lawless. THE DISAPPEAR.\NCE OF GEORGE DRIFFELL. By James Payn. THE W.W'S OF LIFE. By Mrs. Oliphant. London: SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 Waterloo Place. NOVELS BY Mrs. HUMPHRY WARD. HELBECK OF BANNISDALE. Fifth Eilltion. Crown Svo. 6^. From THE TIMES.—' A book which will take rank with Mrs. Humphry Ward's best work. ... 1 he story is a story of a great passion worthily told. Fine luminous passages, fraught with delicate significances, permit us to understand the atmosphere in which the two chief actors move.' From THE SPECTATOR.— 'Very few men and women will, we predict, be able to close MfS. Ward's book without the sense that they have been profoundly interested and deeply touched. We follow the searchings of heart experienced both by Laura and the Squire with intense interest. We never lose our human interest, nor do the chief combatants ever cease to be real people, and so we shall venture to predict for Mrs. Ward's new book a success quite as great as that which fell to her last two novels.' SIR GEORGE TRESSADY. Third Edition. Crown Svo. 6s From THE TIMES : -'In every sense this Is a remarkable novel. . . . The writer takes an even wider range than before, and deals with contemporary politics and the burning questions of the morrow with the vcTue and no little of the knowledge of a Disraeli. . . . The charm of the novel is the actuality of the personages. Mrs. Ward has been living with them : so they live and breathe.' From "THE STANDARD :—'" Sir George Tressady" is an exceedingly able book. We doubt if any other living woman could have written it. . . . It is a work that does her heart and imagination infinite credit.' MARCELLA. sixteenth Edition. Crown Svo. 6j. Cheap Popular Edition, bound in limp cloth. Crown Svo. 2i. dd. From THE TIMES :— 'Mrs. Humphry Ward again thrusts her hand into the hot fire of living interests. Perhaps from this reason not a page is insipid. Everywhere is fresh, bright "actuality"; everywhere are touches of intimacy with the world which she describes.' THE HISTORY OF DAVID GRIEVE. Ninth Edition. Crown Svo. ds Cheap Popular Edition, bound in limp cloth. Crown Svo. ■zs. dd. From THE SPEAKER :— 'This we can affirm— that in masterly grasp of the various phases of spiritual thought and conflict in the England of to-day, " David Grieve stands alone in modern fiction and must be confessed as what it is— a masterpiece.' ROBERT ELSMERE. Twenty-seventh Edition. Crown Svo. (>s. Cheap Popular Edition, bound in limp cloth. Crown Svo. 2j. kd. Cabinet Edition, Two Volumes. Small Svo. 12*. From THE SPECTATOR:— 'This is a very remarkable book. . . . Profoundly M we differ from Mrs. Humphry Ward's criticism of Christianity, we recognise in her book one of the most striking pictures of a sincere religious ideal that has ever been presentea to our generation under the disguise of the modern novel.' THE STORY OF BESSIE COSTRELL. Square i6mo. ■2.S , • ^ ^_ u- From THE CHRISTIAN VTORLD :-'Mrs. Ward has done nothing finer than this brief story. The sustained interest, which does not permit the reader to miss a line ; the vwtd cSness in which each character stands out n self-revelation ; the unfailing insight i^to the familiar and confused workings of the village mind-a^l represent work of the highMt cla^. "The St ory of Bessie Costrell " will become an English classic. London : SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 Waterloo Place. NOVELS BY H. S. MERRIMAN. RODEN'S CORNER. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6/. TRUTH.—' A novel I defy you to lay down once you have pot well into it.' PUNCH.—' Kor dramatic situation, intensity and uniplltiiy of narraUve, U u marvellous. . . . The plot is inRenious and new.' „.,.,• l ■ „ . BLACK AND WHITE.— \u " RoJcn » Corner" Mr. Merriman hw Riven ui of his very best— a story original, exciting, and ihoroughly readable from Ulle-page lo finis.' IN KEDAR'S TENTS. Eighth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6/. THE PALL MALL GAZETTE.-' Ader iht few first p-v — '-^•"' to criticise, one can only enjoy. ... It is a story of intense ei.iieinenj, , gy and the characterization are admirable. In a w^rd-lhe u»« ol which, l... . -^ . .._, . JJCa a rare and delicious luxury— ihe hook i* K""'l.' , r i i . .» i^ THE DAILY TELEGKAl'H.-Viom the first to the final cliapUr U>e pJol moves merrily, with undeniable spirit and dramatic force.' THE SOWERS. Twe.ntieth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6/. THE A THENyEUM.—' The best and strongest romance which he h»» yet gi>en ° THE GRAPHIC.—' His absorbingly intercviing story will be found very difficult indeed to lay down until its List page has been turned.' WITH EDGED TOOLS. Fcp. 8vo. boards, Pictorial Cover, 2s. ; or, Ump red clutli, 2s. (:d. THE BAIL Y TELEGRAPH.—' The book cannot be too highly praised.' r/^^ 5/'A/lA'£'A'.— ' An rxCL-ptionally good story.' THE WESTMINSTER C.^i^A/y /T.— ' AdTiirably conceived as a whole, md most skilful in its details. The story never flags or loiters.' FROM ONE GENERATION TO ANOTHER. Fcp. 8vo. boards, I'lclorial Cover, 2J. ; or, limp red cloth, zs. Gd. THE ILLUSTRATED LONDON A^^W'^.—' The book U a good book. The characters of Michael Seymour and of James Agar are admirably contrasted. . . • T^ere is a very fair allowance of wrong-doing in the novel ; but, on the other hand— wmch ts quite unusual in a story nowadays— things all come right at hist. ^ THE BOOKM.4N.—' There is not a really dull page in the book- . . n THE SPEAKER. ' We can recommend "From One Generation to Another as thoroughly readable.' THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP. Fcp. 8vo. boards, Pictorial Cover, 2s. ; or, limp red clolh, 2s. 6d. THE MANCHESTER GUARDIAN.— 'K masterly story ... so like real life. and so entirely unconventional.' . . .1 . a THE DAILY GRAPHIC— 'Tht characters are drawTi firmly, consistently, and with great skill, and the story is at once fascinatinc and well balanced. .... THE GUARDIAN— 'So cleverly has Mr. Henry Merriman iulfilled bis task that we read through his two thrilling volumes without any feeling of incredulity. THE GREY LADY. Square i6mo. 41. ; or, with 12 FuU- page Illustrations by ARTHUR Rackh.\m, crown 8vo. 6s. THE GLOBE.—' A story of striking merit throughout.' THE BRITISH WEEKLY.— ' An iaUieiting, thoughtful, carefully-wntten story, with a charming touch of pensiveness.' London : SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 Waterloo Place. NOVELS BY CONAN DOYLE. A STORY OP THE SOUDAN. With Forty full-page Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6j. THE TRAGEDY OF THE KOROSKO. The SPEAKER. — ' It is dangerous to describe any work of fiction in thef;e days of a prolific press as a masterpiece, yet there cannot be any doubt that the word is strictly apphcabie to Mr. Conan Doyle's "Tragedy of the Korosko." . . . We heartily con- gratulate Mr. Conan Doyle upon having produced a work of such remarkable power and distinction.' The DAILY NEWS.— 'A fine stor>-, the interest of which arrests the reader's attentiun at the start, and holds it to the close. The characterisation throughout is strong, clear, and very delicate. Impressive, pulsating with emotion, informed with a great air of reality, this story will sustain and enhance its author's already high reputation.' 'Dr. Conan Doyle's fascinating sfori/.'— Daily News. Second Edition. With Twelve full-page Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s. UNCLE BERNAC : a Memory of the Empire. The WORLD. — ' " Uncle Bernac " is a masterpiece. This memory of the empire will make the most immortally interesting of human beings. Napoleon, live and move and speak within the knowledge of every one who reads it.' The DAILY CHRONICLE.— "-Uncle Bernac" is for a truth Dr. Doyle's Napoleon. Viewed as a picture of the little man in the grey coat it must take rank before anything he has written. The fascination of it is extraordinary. It reaches everywhere a l.igh literary level.' *A notable and very brilliant work of genius.' — The Speaker. With Eight full-page Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s. RODNEY STONE. The DAILY TELEGRAPH.— 'Dr. Conan Doyle has written a wonderful book in this his latest contribution to the new romance. The story goes so gallantly from start to finish that we are fairly startled out of our Jin de siecU indifference and carried along in breathless excitement to learn the fate of the boy hero and the inimitable dandy. PUNCH. — ' A delightful quality about " Rodney Stone " is its lilting " go " There is not a dull page in it from first to last. All is light, colour, movement, blended and inspired by a master hand.' Twenty-first Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. THE WHITE COMPANY. TIMES. — ' We could not desire a more stirring romance, or one more flattering to our national traditions. We feel throughout that Mr. Conan Doyle's story is not a mere item in the catalogue of exciting romances. It is real literature.' ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS.—' I have read nothing of the kind so good since " Ivanhoe," with which it has many points of resemblance.' With a Frontispiece. Crown Svo. 6s. THE GREEN FLAG: AND OTHER STORIES OP WAR AND SPORT. YORKSHIRE POST.—' There is not a weak story or a dull page in this volume. Constructive skill, genuine humour, and a mastery of style, combine to make this the most attractive volume of short stories we have for some time seen.' DAILY TELEGRAPH.—' Few novelists of our time would have told the story in such stirring language, and the battle picture is perfect of its kind. Altogether the volume is admirable.' London: SMITH, ELDER 6t CO., 15 Waterloo Place. NOVELS BY S. R. CROCKETT. LITTLE ANNA MARK. Speaker. — ' Roinantic »(!• venture, especially in In* <'Wi country, is uncloubicdly^li- Crockett's strotiK point. . . .Tliere is a Kood deal of vi^orovis wriliiig that does not mist fire like %n much in niotlcrn hrrnictl »tufr, and "Little Anna M.irlc " i» a sufficiently dashing and attractive heroine to fdl the title-rOle with effect. AlloKelhcr here is • good tale to read.' I rn I V. ANNA MAHK. Croirn Hro, Oi. I.ITTI.E ANNA MARK, DnUy Newi. -'In " Utile lilh .ihe.' THIRD EDITION. With 8 Full-page Illuitraticm*. Crown 8vo. «*. THE BLACK DOUGLAS. Speaker.—' Upon the whole. the btrong<--st piece of w.il; v.' have yet h;id from Mr. Ci ' ■ ! ... a book which grip. l!i- imaRinatioii in a thoroughly satis- factory fashion." Academy.—' A stirring story of fighting, and loving, and vengeance.' Black and White.— 'A fine vigorous story, full of hard fight- ing and br.-ive deeds.' BLACK DOUGLAS. THIRD EDITION. i'roten Hvo. 0». black'douglas. THIkl) KDlTloN. Croini Seo. 6.«. Yorkshire Dntly Po«U-'A Lril- w ik ; one of l^e t.jve nut.' World.— 'The ,: u> end • Chronicle. —'With .r t . ' r«. li.lTI- f Mr VCT C»o itclt ui^s fc.jii.'- i.( hi* 'V>— tw-fk. He outdoei any ' have yet »een kind.' THIRD EDITION. With 8 FulUpage lUaslralioo*. Cro«ii «»o. fci THE RED AXE. Dally News. — ' Well con- structed ; always picturesque ; and we pa-. wh:cti he tells in his own r , •.:"y -•■. 'c. More than any i; . . 1 : . ^ b-ooki it play« ,; • and lakes a I 1 the atten- li :._ i.gs of the reader.' THIRTY-FOURTH THOUSAND. Crown ?•". ff. CLEG KELLY, Spectator. — ' The story teems with incidents of all sorts, and it carries the reader along, keenly interested and full of sympathy, from the first page to the last. It is a thoroughly good and in- teresting novel.' Daily Chronicle.— ' If ever there was an ideal character in fiction it is this heroic raga- muffin.* CLEG KELLY. 34th THOUSAND. C>'otr»i Svo. 6s. CLEG KELLY. 34th THOUSAND. Croirn Sro. Gs. ARAB OF THE CITY. Fevlew of Reviews.— 'A b>ok which wi;i add to the fame of its author, and establish the p)opularity of the Scotch story on sti'.l wider acd broader foun- dations.' Westminster Gazette.— 'Cleg Kelly Is from first to last a wholly delightful and stimu- lating figure — a hero fit to make the lame of any b-K'k.' London: SMITH, ELDER, & CO., IS Waterloo Place, S.W. DATE DUE JM 2 7 \q77 ! JAN 2 i ij / L V uni9R 1R ';, iB8i . 1 1 GAYLORD PBINTCD JN USA. UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY PACILITY AA 000 606 263 2 3 1210 00365" 207 i