--that it's a devilish fine place, in its way. Anyhow, we
make no charge for it--he presents it to you as a free gift. Why not
accept it as such and make the best of it?"

"Make the best of it?" stormed Mr. Wackerbath. "Stand by and see the
best site in three counties defaced by a jimcrack Moorish nightmare like
that! Why, they'll call it 'Wackerbath's Folly,' sir. I shall be the
laughing-stock of the neighbourhood. I can't live in the beastly
building. I couldn't afford to keep it up, and I won't have it cumbering
my land. Do you hear? _I won't!_ I'll go to law, cost me what it may,
and compel you and your Arabian friends there to pull the thing down.
I'll take the case up to the House of Lords, if necessary, and fight you
as long as I can stand!"

"As long as thou canst stand!" repeated Fakrash, gently. "That is a long
time truly, O thou litigious one!... On all fours, ungrateful dog that
thou art!" he cried, with an abrupt and entire change of manner, "and
crawl henceforth for the remainder of thy days. I, Fakrash-el-Aamash,
command thee!"

It was both painful and grotesque to see the portly and intensely
respectable Mr. Wackerbath suddenly drop forward on his hands while
desperately striving to preserve his dignity. "How dare you, sir?" he
almost barked, "how _dare_ you, I say? Are you aware that I could summon
you for this? Let me up. I _insist_ upon getting up!"

"O contemptible in aspect!" replied the Jinnee, throwing open the door.
"Begone to thy kennel."

"I won't! I can't!" whimpered the unhappy man. "How do you expect
me--me!--to cross Westminster Bridge on all fours? What will the
officials think at Waterloo, where I have been known and respected for
years? How am I to face my family in--in this position? Do, for mercy's
sake, let me get up!"

Horace had been too shocked and startled to speak before, but now
humanity, coupled with disgust for the Jinnee's high-handed methods,
compelled him to interfere. "Mr. Fakrash," he said, "this has gone far
enough. Unless you stop tormenting this unfortunate gentleman, I've done
with you."

"Never," said Fakrash. "He hath dared to abuse my palace, which is far
too sumptuous a dwelling for such a son of a burnt dog as he. Therefore,
I will make his abode to be in the dust for ever."

"But I _don't_ find fault," yelped poor Mr. Wackerbath. "You--you
entirely misunderstood the--the few comments I ventured to make. It's a
capital mansion, handsome, and yet 'homey,