He bore a painful resemblance in them to the kind 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 Kensington 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 accustomed to seeing people skimming over the chimney-pots like amateur rooks." "Trouble not for that," said Fakrash, "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 don't mind waiting outside. I'll come to the 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 has 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." "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 papa? It's too ghastly to think of his having to be sent away to--to a Home of Rest for Horses--and yet what _is_ to be done with him?... Why do you come if you can't do anything?" "I shouldn't be here unless I could bring you good news. You remember what I told you about the Jinnee?" "Remember!" cried Sylvia. "As if I could forget! Has he really come back, Horace?"