[_Coming down nearer bottle._] Grant thy servant a period of delay, and it may be that I can procure thee a client. HORACE. Good old Arabian Nights again! You'd better not make the delay long--my head will be clear very soon. FAKRASH. Greater rewards by far will I bestow upon thee, most meritorious of men! But now--[_going up to right_]--I must leave thee for a season. HORACE. I _knew_ I was coming round--you'll be gone directly. FAKRASH. Aye, for I must seek out Suleymán--[_salaaming_]--on whom be peace!--and obtain pardon from him. [_He waves his arm, and the door at back flies open._ HORACE. [_Eagerly._] Yes--I _would_! You go and do _that_! Make haste! [_The door closes, leaving FAKRASH visible through it in an unearthly light._] Good-bye--and good luck! FAKRASH. [_Through door._] To thee also! And be assured that I will not be unmindful of thy welfare! [_The door becomes solid as FAKRASH vanishes._ HORACE. [_Rubbing his eyes._] What a queer dream! [_He goes up to the door, opens it, then returns and sits by table._] So vivid! [_He sees the brass bottle on the floor._] Open! [_Looking inside it._] Empty! H'm, better get it out of the way. [_He takes the bottle in one hand and the cap in the other, and carries them into the bedroom on right. The moment he has gone there is a rush of wind, and then a heavy thud on the balcony outside, and MR. WACKERBATH, a stout, prosperous-looking, elderly gentleman, in tall hat, frock-coat, white waistcoat, &c., reels through the open window into the room, and sinks into the armchair on left of tablet where he sits puffing and blowing._ MR. WACKERBATH. [_Feebly._] Where _am_ I? How did I----? [_He takes off his hat._] Ah, of course! I remember now. [_He rises as HORACE enters from bedroom._] Mr.--ah--Ventimore, I think? Mr. Horace Ventimore? HORACE. [_Slightly surprised._] Yes, that's my name. [_Offering chair on right of table._] Won't you sit down? MR. WACKERBATH. Thank you--I will. [_He sits down._] I--I ought to apologise for dropping in on you in this--ah--unceremonious way--but I acted, I may say--ah--on a sudden impulse. HORACE. I'm afraid I haven't much time to spare--but if it's anything of importance---- MR. WACKERBATH. [_Panting._] You must give me a little time--till I--ah--get my wind again. HORACE. Certainly. I know the stairs here _are_ rather steep. MR. WACKERBATH.