"Perhaps you can tell me why we're going through Victoria Street, and what all this crowd has come out for?" asked Ventimore. 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 _persiflage_. "For what else but to do thee honour?" answered Fakrash. "What bosh!" said Horace. "They mistake me for the Shah or somebody--and no wonder, in this get-up." "Not so," said the Jinnee. "Thy names are familiar to them." Horace glanced up at the hastily improvised decorations; 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, Ventimore!" And an enthusiastic 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 embarrassed. "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 _believe_ I've done something, to be received like this. And, as we shall be in the Guildhall in a very few seconds, you may as well tell me what it is!" "Regarding that matter," replied 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 up 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 accompanied his _protege_ into the marquee, which was brilliant with pretty women in smart frocks, officers in scarlet tunics and plumed hats, and servants in State liveries.