ward into the nearest
armchair (which was, fortunately, a solid and capacious piece of
furniture) with his fore-legs hanging limply at his side, in a
semi-human fashion. There was a brief convulsion, and then, by some
gradual process unspeakably impressive to witness, the man seemed to
break through the mule, the mule became merged in the man--and Professor
Futvoye, restored to his own natural form and habit, sat gasping and
trembling in the chair before them.

CHAPTER XIV

"SINCE THERE'S NO HELP, COME, LET US KISS AND PART!"

As soon as the Professor seemed to have regained his faculties, Horace
opened the door and called in Sylvia and her mother, who were, as was
only to be expected, overcome with joy on seeing the head of the family
released from his ignoble condition of a singularly ill-favoured
quadruped.

"There, there," said the Professor, as he submitted to their embraces
and incoherent congratulations, "it's nothing to make a fuss about. I'm
quite myself again, as you can see. And," he added, with an unreasonable
outburst of ill-temper, "if one of you had only had the common sense to
think of such a simple remedy as sprinkling a little cold water over me
when I was first taken like that, I should have been spared a great deal
of unnecessary inconvenience. But that's always the way with women--lose
their heads the moment anything goes wrong! If I had not kept perfectly
cool myself--"

"It was very, very stupid of us not to think of it, papa," said Sylvia,
tactfully ignoring the fact that there was scarcely an undamaged article
in the room; "still, you know, if _we_ had thrown the water it mightn't
have had the same effect."

"I'm not in a condition to argue now," said her father; "you didn't
trouble to try it, and there's no more to be said."

"No more to be said!" exclaimed Fakrash. "O thou monster of ingratitude,
hast thou no thanks for him who hath delivered thee from thy
predicament?"

"As I am already indebted to you, sir," said the Professor, "for about
twenty-four hours of the most poignant and humiliating mental and bodily
anguish a human being can endure, inflicted for no valid reason that I
can discover, except the wanton indulgence of your unholy powers, I can
only say that any gratitude of which I am conscious is of a very
qualified description. As for you, Ventimore," he added, turning to
Horace, "I don't know--I can only guess at--the part you have played in
this wretched busines