his feet, make and unmake
kingdoms--dominate, in short, the entire world.

"But, then," as Horace told himself with a groan, "it wouldn't amuse me
in the least to convulse money markets. Do I want to see the smartest
people in London grovelling for anything they think they're likely to
get out of me? As I should be perfectly well aware that their homage was
not paid to any personal merit of mine, I could hardly consider it
flattering. And why should I make kingdoms? The only thing I understand
and care about is making houses. Then, am I likely to be a better hand
at dominating the world than all the others who have tried the
experiment? I doubt it."

He called to mind all the millionaires he had ever read or heard of;
they didn't seem to get much fun out of their riches. The majority of
them were martyrs to dyspepsia. They were often weighed down by the
cares and responsibilities of their position; the only people who were
unable to obtain an audience of them at any time were their friends;
they lived in a glare of publicity, and every post brought them
hundreds of begging letters, and a few threats; their children were in
constant danger from kidnappers, and they themselves, after knowing no
rest in life, could not be certain that even their tombs would be
undisturbed. Whether they were extravagant or thrifty, they were equally
maligned, and, whatever the fortune they left behind them, they could be
absolutely certain that, in a couple of generations, it would be
entirely dissipated.

"And the biggest millionaire living," concluded Horace, "is a pauper
compared with me!"

But there was another consideration--how was he to realise all this
wealth? He knew enough about precious stones to be aware that a ruby,
for instance, of the true "pigeon's blood" colour and the size of a
melon, as most of these rubies were, would be worth, even when cut,
considerably over a million; but who would buy it?

"I think I see myself," he reflected grimly, "calling on some diamond
merchant in Hatton Garden with half a dozen assorted jewels in a
Gladstone bag. If he believed they were genuine, he'd probably have a
fit; but most likely he'd think I'd invented some dodge for
manufacturing them, and had been fool enough to overdo the size. Anyhow,
he'd want to know how they came into my possession, and what could I
say? That they were part of a little present made to me by a Jinnee in
grateful acknowledgment of my having relieved him fr