fy thee?" inquired the Jinnee, as his green turban and
flowing robes suddenly resolved themselves into the conventional
chimney-pot hat, frock-coat, and trousers of modern civilisation.

He bore a painful resemblance in them to the kind of elderly gentleman
who comes on in the harlequinade to be bonneted by the clown; but Horace
was in no mood to be critical just then.

"That's better," he said encouragingly; "much better. Now," he added, as
he led the way to the hall and put on his own hat and overcoat, "we'll
go out and find a hansom and be at Kensington in less than twenty
minutes."

"We shall be there in less than twenty seconds," said the Jinnee,
seizing him by the arm above the elbow; and Horace found himself
suddenly carried up into the air and set down, gasping with surprise and
want of breath, on the pavement opposite the Futvoyes' door.

"I should just like to observe," he said, as soon as he could speak,
"that if we've been seen, we shall probably cause a sensation. Londoners
are not accustomed to seeing people skimming over the chimney-pots like
amateur rooks."

"Trouble not for that," said Fakrash, "for no mortal eyes are capable of
following our flight."

"I hope not," said Horace, "or I shall lose any reputation I have left.
I think," he added, "I'd better go in alone first and prepare them, if
you don't mind waiting outside. I'll come to the window and wave my
pocket-handkerchief when they're ready. And _do_ come in by the door
like an ordinary person, and ask the maidservant if you may see me."

"I will bear it in mind," answered the Jinnee, and suddenly sank, or
seemed to sink, through a chink in the pavement.

Horace, after ringing at the Futvoyes' door, was admitted and shown into
the drawing-room, where Sylvia presently came to him, looking as lovely
as ever, in spite of the pallor due to sleeplessness and anxiety. "It is
kind of you to call and inquire," she said, with the unnatural calm of
suppressed hysteria. "Dad is much the same this morning. He had a fairly
good night, and was able to take part of a carrot for breakfast--but
I'm afraid he has just remembered that he has to read a paper on
'Oriental Occultism' before the Asiatic Society this evening, and it's
worrying him a little.... Oh, Horace," she broke out, unexpectedly, "how
perfectly awful all this is! How _are_ we to bear it?"

"Don't give way, darling!" said Horace; "you will not have to bear it
much longer."

"It's all ver