Now then, you--you unspeakable old swine! What do you _mean_ by bringing me here like this? FAKRASH. [_Crossing to the right._] Verily I was tempted to drop thee in mid-air, forgetting my purpose. HORACE. To introduce me to that precious bride of yours, eh? I've told you already I'll have nothing to do with her. FAKRASH. Thou canst not escape _this_ bride--[_he suddenly produces a huge scimitar and brandishes it_]--for her name is--Death! HORACE. Death! I say, you don't mean that! [_As FAKRASH advances on him with a sweep of the scimitar, which HORACE ducks to avoid._] Yes, you do! [_Backing below window._] By Gad! you're _dangerous_! Well, just tell me _this_--what on earth have I done to deserve death? FAKRASH. I have brought thee hither--not to parley with thee, but to strike off thy head in the very place of thy perjuries. HORACE. [_Trying to keep cool._] I see. You seem to have forgotten that this is the very place where I let you out of that bottle. FAKRASH. [_Wrathfully._] Far better were it hadst thou suffered me to remain therein! HORACE. I quite agree with you _there_. [_As FAKRASH makes another cut at him with the scimitar._] Now, before you begin this execution, you'd better listen to me. You've got hold of some quite imaginary grievance, and I can tell you you'll look uncommonly foolish if you find after you've cut off my head that there's nothing _in_ it--[_correcting himself, annoyed_]--in the _grievance_, I mean! FAKRASH. O thou of plausible tongue, know that I have discovered thy treachery and deceit! Didst thou not assure me that I was free to wander where I would, since there was no longer any that had authority over the Jinn! HORACE. I don't _know_ of anybody that has. [_Half to himself._] Wish to Heaven I did! FAKRASH. [_With raised scimitar._] Thou hast lied--for there _is_ such a potentate! Since I visited thee this morn I have traversed many lands--and in _all_ have I seen the signs of his dominion and his wrath against us of the Jinn! HORACE. [_Blankly._] I've no _idea_ what you're driving at. FAKRASH. Again thou liest! [_As he is about to raise scimitar again HORACE keeps FAKRASH'S right arm down._] From this very spot whereon we stand thou canst behold such signs. [_Pointing with left hand through the open windows._] Tell me, what are yonder strongholds of blackened brick? HORACE. [_Mystified._] Those? Oh, factories--works of sorts. FAKRASH. [_Pointing with scimitar._] And yonder strange and gigantic cylinders red as blood? HORACE. [_Pushing FAKRASH'S hand away._] Gasometers. FAKRASH. Call them what thou wilt--they are prison-houses! All, all dungeons wherein my wretched brethren labour in torment till the Day of Doom! [_Pacing towards the right._] And every city throughout the world is filled with such abominations! Therefore--[_turning on him again_]--before I slay thee, I demand that thou tell me the name of the potentate by whom these punishments are imposed. HORACE.