[_Wheeling his chair round so as to face him._] Instead of which you put a spoke in my wheel whenever you got the chance! Not behaving quite decently, _was_ it? PRINGLE. [_Stiffly._] After last night, I cannot consider _you_ as an authority on _decency_. HORACE. Don't rub it in, Pringle! PRINGLE. As I was saying, I came prepared to leave the field to you--for I am not the sort of man to unsettle any girl's affections---- HORACE. That's your modesty, Pringle! You don't realise how dangerous you _are_! PRINGLE. [_Ignoring this._] I was going to say--so long as she continues engaged to _another_. But if Miss Sylvia doesn't recognise yet that you are utterly unworthy of her, she very soon _will_. Then _my_ chance will come--and I've every intention of taking it. HORACE. Sorry to discourage you, my dear Pringle--but your chance hasn't come yet, and it's not over likely to come at all. [_He turns to his work again._ PRINGLE. She'll never marry you without her father's consent--and if you'd heard him last night in the cab----! HORACE. [_Easily._] I daresay. But he'll be very different this morning. PRINGLE. [_Who has come nearer to him._] Why, you're not trusting to that trumpery seal of yours to convince him? HORACE. No. I'm trusting to something--or rather somebody--[_turning to him_]--who will be more convincing than any seal. PRINGLE. It will take a good deal to reconcile him, or any of them, to such an extremely--er--Oriental interior as you rejoice in. HORACE. The Oriental interior has gone, Pringle,--vanished into space! PRINGLE. Nonsense! How could solidly constructed halls like those vanish in a night? HORACE. I don't pretend to know _how_--but they _have_, and that's enough for _me_! [_He returns to his drawing._ PRINGLE. [_Going back to fireplace._] And this client of yours--has _he_ vanished, too? HORACE. Old Wackerbath? Oh, no; he's much too solid to vanish--he's only a trifle late! PRINGLE. I shouldn't make too sure of him. HORACE. [_Listening._] I fancy he's coming upstairs now. [_Rises and goes to door at back, then stops with a sudden recollection._] Unless it's the _other_ one! PRINGLE. The _other_ one? So you've _two_ clients! HORACE. No, only one. The other--isn't a client. [_Half to himself, as he comes down._] Awkward if they happened to _meet_! I never thought of that! [_There is a loud knock at the door to staircase._] Well, here's _one_ of 'em, anyhow! Come in! [_MR. WACKERBATH opens the door, and stands on the threshold, breathing hard, and purple and speechless with rage. HORACE goes towards him._] It _is_ Mr. Wackerbath! How do you do? [_Pleasantly._] I was beginning to be afraid----[_He notices MR. WACKERBATH'S expression._] Eh? Has anything happened? MR. WACKERBATH. Happened, sir? Yes, something _has_ happened! Which you'll be good enough to explain--if you _can_! HORACE.