[_Starting up and coming towards FAKRASH._] He never _meant_ it! And, anyhow, _you're_ safe enough! FAKRASH. [_Turning on him fiercely._] Hold thy lying tongue! PRINGLE. Ventimore, I must beg you not to interfere. HORACE. Damn it all, Pringle, he's _my_ Jinnee--not yours! [_He attempts to join MRS. FUTVOYE and SYLVIA, who turn their backs on him, after which he returns to his former place, crushed._ PRINGLE. [_To FAKRASH._] Evidently, sir, there has been some slight misunderstanding on both sides. But I feel confident that, if you will only consent to see this unfortunate gentleman, the matter can very soon be amicably arranged. FAKRASH. I am here for this very purpose. Let this learned man appear before me. PRINGLE. I won't keep you waiting long. [_He goes up to the sliding-doors and calls._] Professor! If you will kindly step this way, Mr. Fakrash would be glad to see you. [_A pause. THE MULE comes slowly on from the left side of the sliding doors._ HORACE. [_Overwhelmed._] Great Heavens above! PRINGLE. [_Trying to be polite and at his ease._] Er--how do you do, Professor? Sorry to see you looking so--so unlike yourself. [_THE MULE shows irritation; PRINGLE retreats nervously; then, in an undertone to MRS. FUTVOYE._] He--he can't jump that sofa, can he? MRS. FUTVOYE. [_In an undertone, to him._] Of course not--that's why it's there! PRINGLE. [_To FAKRASH._] A distinguished archæologist, sir, a corresponding member of every learned society in Europe--reduced to these extremities! [_To THE MULE, which seems to feel its position acutely._] Professor, as Ventimore has refused to interfere, I have taken on myself to assure this--this venerable Jane---- HORACE. [_In an undertone to PRINGLE._] _Jinnee!_ Call him "Jinnee"! PRINGLE. [_To HORACE._] I prefer to leave such familiarities to _you_, Ventimore----[_To MULE._]--this venerable _personage_, Professor, that if you have inadvertently offended him, you are ready to make any reasonable apology. That is so? [_THE MULE bows its head._ FAKRASH. Ask if he be willing to surrender the stopper of the bottle wherein I was enclosed. [_MULE shakes head._ PRINGLE. Now, Professor, if you consent to a request which I must say seems to me a very moderate and proper one, will you--er--signify the same in the usual manner by raising--er--your right ear? [_THE MULE'S left ear goes up sharply._ FAKRASH. The _left_ ear! He refuseth! PRINGLE. No, no, he _meant_ the right ear--he hasn't got complete muscular control as yet. I _really_ think we should get on better if you gave him back his power of speech. FAKRASH.