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UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME
Cloth 2t. 6d. ; paper covers, is. 6d. each.
PLAYS BY ARTHUR PINERO
GILBERT MURRAY
W. E. HENLEY & R. L. STEVENSON
GERHART HAUPTMANN
EDMUND ROSTAND
HENRIK IBSEN
0. HADDON CHAMBERS
ROBERT MARSHALL
HERMAN HEIJERMANS
FRANZ ADAM BEYERLEIN
LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
a I Bedford Street, W.C.
THS
A FARCICAL FANTASTIC PLAT
In Four <Acts
BY F. ANSTEY
LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
Copyright, 1911, London, by William Heintmann
COPY OF THE "FIRST NIGHT" PROGRAMME
AT THE
VAUDEVILLE THEATRE, LONDON
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A Farcical Play in Four Acts
BY F. ANSTEY
PERFORMED FOR THE FIRST TIME
ON THUKSDAY EVENING, SEPTEMBER 16, 1909
HORACE VENTIMORE .
PROFESSOR ANTHONY
FUTVOYE
FAKRASH-EL-AAMASH .
SPENCER PRINGLE
SAMUEL WACKERBATH
RAPKIN .
CHIEF OF CARAVAN
HEAD EFREET
A WAITER ....
MRS. FUTVOYE
SYLVIA FUTVOYE .
MRS. RAPKIN
MRS. WACKERBATH
JESSIE .....
ZOBEIDA (Principal Dancing
Girl) . .
MR. LAURENCE GROSSMITH
MR. ALFRED BISHOP
MR. E. HOLMAN CLARK
MR. RUDGE HARDING
MR. LUIGI LABLACHE
MR. J. H. BREWER
MR. A. SPENCER
MR. JOHN CAREY
MR. WALTER RINGHAM
Miss LENA HALLIDAY
Miss VIVA BIRKETT
Miss MARY BROUGH
Miss ARMINE GRACE
Miss GLADYS STOREY
Miss MABEL DUNCAN
DANCERS. Misses Phyllis Birkett, Florence A. Pigott, Susie
Nainby, Dorothy Beaufey, Nina De Leon, Cynthia
Farnham
SYNOPSIS OF SCENERY
ACTS I AND II
HORACE VENTIMORE'S ROOMS
There ivill be an Interval of Two Minutes after Act /, and Eight Minutes
after Act II
ACT III
SCENE I. VENTIMORE'S OFFICE
SCENE II. DRAWING-ROOM AT THE FUTVOYES'
There will be One Minute Interval between Scenes I and II, during
which the Audience are requested to keep their seats. After
Act III, Eight Minutes.
ACT IV
SCENE I. VENTIMORE'S ROOMS
SCENE II. "PINAFORE" ROOM, SAVOY HOTEL
There will be an Interval of One Minute between Scenes I and //,
during which the Audience are requested to keep their seats.
The Scenery painted by WALTER HANN AND SON.
The Play has been Produced (for MR. GASTON MAYER) by
MR. FREDERICK KERR.
The Amateur fee for each and every
representation of this play is five
guineas, payable in advance to the
Author's Sole Agents, Messrs.
Samuel French, Ltd., 26 South-
ampton Street, Strand, London,
W.C.
THS TSO^S OF THS TlJiY
HORACE VENTIMORE (a young Architect, aged 28)
PROFESSOR ANTHONY FUTVOYK (an Egyptologist, aged 60)
FAKRASH-EL-AAMASH (a Jinnee of the Green Jinn, age
, h uncertain)
SPENCER PRINGLE (an Architect, aged 32)
SAMUEL WAOKERBATH (an Auctioneer, and Estate Agent,
aged 60)
RAPKIN (Ventimore's Landlord, a retired butler, aged 55)
CHIEF OF CARAVAN
HEAD EFREET
A WAITER (at the Savoy Hotel)
MRS. FUTVOYE (aged 55)
SYLVIA FUTVOYE (her Daughter, aged 21)
MRS. RAPKIN (Ventimore's Landlady)
MRS. WAOKERBATH
JEBSIB (Parlour-maid at the Futvoyes')
PRINCIPAL DANCING GIRL
CARAVAN SLAVES, MUSICIANS, EFREETS, DANCING
GlELS
ACTS I AND II
^VENTIMORE'S ROOMS IN VINCENT SQUARE,
WESTMINSTER
ACT III
SCENE I. VENTIMORE'S OFFICE IN GREAT
COLLEGE STREET, WESTMINSTER
SCENE II. A DRAWING-ROOM AT THE FUTVOYES'
HOUSE IN COTTESMORE GARDENS, KENSINGTON
ACT IV
SCENE I. VENTIMORE'S ROOMS
SCBNB II. THE "PINAFORE" ROOM AT THE
SAVOY HOTEL
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THE FIRST ACT
The scene represents HORACE YENTIMORE'S rooms in
Vincent Square, Westminster.
<
The sitting-room is simply but artistically furnisfted
and decorated. Walls with a lining-paper of a
pleasant green, hung with coloured prints and
etchings. Fireplace at back. Down left is a large
open French window, opening on a balcony, with
a view beyond of the open square and some large
dull-red gasometers in the distance. Above the
window is a small Sheraton bookcase. On the right
of fireplace is a door leading to the landing and
staircase. Down on the right, another door to
VENTIMORE'S bedroom. Above this door, a small
Sheraton sideboard. Near the window on left is
an armchair , and by it a table, with two smaller
chairs. [N.B. Eight and Left mean the spectator's
Right and Left throughout.]
The time is late afternoon in summer.
When the curtain rises there is no one in the room. A
knock is heard at the door on right of fireplace.
I A
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Then, after a pause, MRS. RAPKIN enters, tike is
a pleasant, neatly dressed, elderly woman, of the
respectable landlady class. She wears a cooking-
apron and her sleeves are turned up. She looks
round the room, and turns to the door as PROFESSOR
FUTVOYE appears.
MRS. RAPKIN.
Mr. Ventimore don't seem to be in, after all, sir.
Unless he's in his bedroom. [She cornea down to the
door on right, as PROFESSOR, MRS., and Miss FUTVOYE
enter from the other door. PROFESSOR FUTVOYE is
elderly and crabbed ; his wife, grey-haired and placid,
bearing with him as with an elderly and rather trouble-
some child; SYLVIA FUTVOYE, their daughter, is a
pretty and attractive girl of about twenty. MRS. RAP-
KIN knocks at the bedroom door.] Mr. Ventimore ! A
gentleman and two ladies to see you. [She opens the
door then, to the PROFESSOR.] No, sir, he hasn't come
in yet but he won't be long now.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[By the table.] Are you sure of that, ma'am ?
MRS. RAPKIN.
Well, sir, he said as how he'd be in early, to make
sure as everythink was as it should be. [In a burst of
confidence.] If you must know, he's expecting company
to dinner this evening.
[SYLVIA has moved to the window; MRS.
FUTVOYE stands by the table.
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PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Placing his hat and stick on a small shelf on the
left of fireplace, and standing by table.] I'm aware of
that, ma'am. We happen to be the company Mr.
Yentimore is expecting. Don't let us keep you from
your cooking.
MRS. RAPKIN.
[ With another burst of confidence.] Well, sir, to tell
you the truth, I 'ave a good deal on my 'ands just
now. [She (joes out by door at back.
SYLVIA.
[After moving about and inspecting the pictures] I
rather like Horace's rooms.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Irritably] I wish he'd manage to be in 'em ! I
fully expected he'd be back by this time. Most
annoying !
MRS, FUTVOYE.
[Resignedly] I thought you were bringing us all
this way for nothing ! And when you must be quite
exhausted enough as it is, after lecturing all the
afternoon !
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
I'm not in the least exhausted, Sophia ; not in the
least !
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Well, Anthony, if 2/ow're not, Sylvia and I are!
[She sits in armchair by the window] But why you
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couldn't wait till eight o'clock to know how Horace
got on at that sale I can't think !
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
He ought to have been back long ago ! I can see
no excuse for his dawdling like this. None what-
ever ! [He sits on right of table.
SYLVIA.
[Standing behind table.] Perhaps he went back to
his office ?
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Tartly.] He's much more likely to have dropped
into his club for a rubber of Bridge !
SYLVIA.
Don't you think you're rather ungrateful to
grumble at poor Horace like this, after he's given up
a whole day's work to oblige you ?
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
I was not aware, my dear, that he has, or ever had,
a day's work to give up ! Correct me if I am wrong
but I am under the impression that nobody has
employed him as an architect yet.
SYLVIA.
That isn't Horace's fault !
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Possibly but it doesn't make him more desirable
as a future son-in-law.
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SYLVIA.
Horace is sure to succeed as soon as he gets a
chance. [Sitting on table and leaning over the PRO-
FESSOR.] If you would only say a word for him to
Godfather, he might be able to help him.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Wackerbath ? No, my dear, I couldn't bring my-
self to take such an advantage of our old friendship
as that ! I've no belief in Ventimore's succeeding
in life. He may have ability though I'm bound
to say I see little evidence of it but, depend upon it,
he'll never make any money !
SYLVIA.
How can you tell ?
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE,
Because he can't even take care of the little he
has ! Look at the money he's throwing away on this
totally unnecessary dinner to-night !
SYLVIA.
Oh ! When it's just a quiet little dinner in his own
rooms ! If it had been the Carlton, now !
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
He proposed to entertain us at the Carlton at first
but I stopped that. It all bears out what I
say that he has absolutely no sense of the value
of -
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MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Interposing calmly.'] There, Anthony, that's
enough ! Horace is engaged to Sylvia and the
most sensible thing we can do is to make the
best of it.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Rising and moving to the right.] I am making the
best of it, Sophia ! If Yentimore was like Spencer
Pr ingle, now !
SYLVIA.
He would never have been engaged to me !
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[To SYLVIA.] Pringle, my dear, is a steady, hard-
working young fellow. I've a real respect and liking for
Pringle. And if I must have an architect for a son-
in-law, he is the man / should have preferred !
SYLVIA.
Why, he hasn't been near us for weeks and weeks
and I hope he means to stay away altogether ! I
always thought him a conceited prig.
[Moving towards door at back.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
You may come to think differently, my dear.
[Pulling out his watch.] Nearly half-past six ! Tut-
tut ! All this time wasted ! It's useless to wait any
longer for Yentimore. We may just as well go !
[He goes to get his hat and stick.
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MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Rising.] I knew how it would be 1
SYLVIA.
[At door.] Wait ! [Opens door and listens.] There's
Horace coming upstairs ! I'm sure it's his step !
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Stops by table with relief^ At last ! Now I shall
know!
[SPENCER PRINGLE enters. He is a smug, self-satisfied
looking man of about thirty -five, smooth-shaven,
except for small side-whiskers. He is in a light
tweed suit, having just come up from the country.
SYLVIA.
[Repressing her disappointment.] Mr. Pringle !
PRINGLE.
[In doorway.] Miss Sylvia ! Mrs. Futvoye I [Shak-
ing hands with the PROFESSOR.] Professor! ^Well!
this is unexpected. [SYLVIA comes down to right.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Graciously.] Glad to see you, Pringle ! You are
quite a stranger. Indeed, my daughter was remark-
ing, only a little while ago, that you hadn't been
near us for weeks !
SYLVIA.
[In an indignant undertone.] Father !
[MRS. FUTVOYE sits down again.
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PRINGLE.
[To SYLVIA, flattered.} Delighted to think I've
been missed ! But my apparent er neglect has been
quite unavoidable.
SYLVIA.
[Laughing.] So kind of you to relieve our minds,
Mr. Pringle !
PRINGLE.
[Solemnly.'] I assure you it's the fact. I've been
away constantly for the last two months, superin-
tending work I'm doing in various parts of the
country. [With importance.} Hardly a moment to call
my own !
[SYLVIA turns with the intention of sitting
down ; he places a chair for her.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[ Taking chair behind table.} A busy man like you,
my dear Pringle, has no need to make excuses.
PRINGLE.
[Fetching a chair for himself.} I really have been
fearfully overworked. Not that I complain of that!
IAs he sits down between the PROFESSOR and SYLVIA.]
'd no idea we should meet here, though. Is
Yentimore a friend of yours '{
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Oh, we know him, yes. As you do, it seems.
PRINGLE.
I sublet a room in my offices to him. Rather a
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good arrangement for him, because he gets experience
by looking after any little matters that I've no time
to attend to.
SYLVIA.
[TF^A suppressed resentment.] And isn't that rather
a good arrangement for you ?
PEINGLE.
It works fairly well as a rule. But when I
returned from the country this afternoon I found he
hadn't been near the office all day !
[He rises, takes SYLVIA'S parasol officiously,
and places it in a corner, then returns.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[To his wife, but speaking at SYLVIA.] Not been
near the office all day ! I thought as much !
SYLVIA.
The reason why he wasn't able to help you, Mr.
Pringle, is because he's been at an auction, bidding
for things on father's account.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
I should have attended the sale myself but for an
engagement to lecture at the Hieroglyph ical on a
recently inscribed cylinder.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
And you'll hardly believe it, Mr. Pringle, but,
the moment the lecture was over, he hurried us off
here to find out what Mr. Ventimore had got for
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him ! It's really too ridiculous ! As if his study
wasn't littered up quite enough already !
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Women, my dear Pringle, can't understand the
feelings of a collector. It's not every day, I can tell
you, that a collection of such importance comes into
the market.
PRINGLE.
I didn't know Ventimore was an expert in such
things. I thought you could get brokers to bid for
you.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Of course of course. But I don't trust brokers
they know too much ! And, as I gave Ventimore
my own catalogue, with a tick against the lots I
want and the limit I'm prepared to go, noted on the
margin, he carit make any mistake.
PRINGLE.
I suppose not. That is, if he's accustomed to
auctions.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
What do you mean ?
PRINGLE.
Only that if you aren't, there's always a liability to
lose your head in the excitement, and go beyond the
margin. But I daresay Ventimore wouldn't do that.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
If he has I [He rises excitedly,] And he might he
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might ! With his recklessness about money, it's the
very thing he would do ! Letting me in for prices I
can't afford ! [Passionately.] No wonder he is in no
hurry to show himself no wonder !
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Rising and attempting to pacify him.] Now,
Anthony, there's nothing to work yourself up into a
state for, at present. Do for goodness' sake wait till
you hear all about it !
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Resentfully.] It seems I shall have to wait, Sophia
but I'm tired of waiting here. [He goes to get his
hat and slick.] And evidently he doesn't intend
to
[Turns, as the door opens and HORACE VENTIMORE
comes in briskly. HORACE is a pleasant-looking
young man, with a cheery and rather boyish
manner ; he comes down and greets the FUTVOYES
without seeing PRINGLE for the moment ; SYLVIA
has risen, delighted at his arrival.
HORACE.
I say ! This is jolly ! [Shaking hands.] Wish
I'd known you were coming on here after the lecture.
[PRINGLE rises, and waits stiffly for recognition.]
Warm work, wasn't, it, Professor, lecturing on an
afternoon like this ? Do sit down. [Looks at table.]
Haven't they given you any tea ?
12 THE BRASS BOTTLE
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Irritably.] No, no, no. We want no tea. It's too
late for tea. We merely looked in on our way home
to
HORACE.
[Sees PRINGLE.] And Pringle, too ! [Pats him on
shoulder.] How are you, old fellow ? You been at
the lecture, too ?
PRINGLE.
[With implied rebuke.] No, I've only just come
round as you weren't at the office, to
HORACE.
I've been engaged all day. Oh, by the bye, do
you know Professor and Mrs.
[Is about to introduce him.
PRINGLE.
[Stiffly.] I am happy to say, my dear fellow, that I
require no introduction. We are old friends.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Impatiently.] To come to the point, Ventimore,
as we are rather pressed for time about the sale ?
How did you get on, eh ?
HORACE,
Oh, ah the sale. [Producing catalogue from pocket.]
Well, I did exactly as you told me.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYF.
[Snatching catalogue from t him t ] Yes, yes. Let's
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go through it lot by lot. Lot 23, now. Did you get
that?
HORACE.
No. Another fellow got that,
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Annoyed,'] Tssch ! Well, so long as you secured
Lot 35. [Reading from catalogue.] " Copper bow],
engraved round rim with verse from Hafiz," you
know. Come, you didn't miss that ?
[SYLVIA is listening anxiously.
HORACE.
I did, though. It was snapped up by a sportsman
in the very worst hat I ever saw in my life. He got
it for sixteen guineas.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Disgusted.] What? A rare example of early
Persian work like that going for only sixteen
guineas ! I'd willingly have paid double the money !
HORACE.
But your limit was seven pound ten, sir! And
you warned me not to exceed it.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE,
You should have used your own judgment, sir!
Well, well, which of the lots I marked did you get ?
HORACE.
[Going to SYLVIA, who is sympathetically distressed.]
14 THE BRASS BOTTLE
Couldn't get one of 'em. They all fetched record
prices.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE,
[Violently.] Upon my soul ! . . , Pringle, you
were right ! I ought to have employed a broker !
[To HORACE.] So you've corne back with absolutely
nothing ?
HORACE.
Well, no. I did manage to get one thing.
SYLVTA.
I knew you would !
you
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[To HORACE.] You did ? But I understood
to say just now !
HORACE.
This was a little nutter on my own account. I
thought I'd stick the sale out, do you see ; and near
the end there was an extra lot put up it wasn't in
the catalogue. [The PROFESSOR makes an exclamation
of angry disgust.] Well, it was being passed round
for us to look at and nobody seemed to think much
of it. But it struck me, somehow, it might be a
dark horse, so I made a bid and got it for only a
sovereign !
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Pah!
SYLVIA.
But you haven't told us yet what it is.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 15
HORACE.
Haven't I ? Oh, well, it's a sort of metal jar.
Brass, the auctioneer said it was.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Tchah ! Some modern bazaar trash !
HORACE.
It doesn s t look modern. I left it downstairs to be
cleaned. [Going to door right of fireplace.] I'll go and
bring it up. [He goes out.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Furious.] I've no patience with the fellow !
Squandering his sovereigns like this on worthless
rubbish !
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Don't be so fractious, Anthony ! For all you can
tell, he may have picked up a treasure.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Grimly.] He may, Sophia. On the other hand,
he may not. Which, on the whole, is rather more
probable.
[He retires up to the fireplace as HORACE
returns, carrying a large 'metal bottle with
a long neck and bulbous body, encrusted
with a thick greenish-white deposit.
PRINGLE closes the door for him after he
has entered.
16 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
[Bringing the bottle down to right of table.} Here it
is! [The others except the PROFESSOR, who remains
aloof gather round and examine it in dubious
silence.} It's not much to look at.
PRINGLE.
Very dusty! [Wipes his hand after touching the
bottle.] And you gave a sovereign for this, Ventimore,
eh ? H'm ! Dear me !
SYLVIA.
It may look better when it's had a good scrubbing.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Scrubbing, my dear ! It will have to be so-aped
first!
HORACE.
Yes looks as if it had been dragged up from the
bottom of the sea, doesn't it? I've an idea it may
be worth something. I should like to have your
opinion, Professor. [He smiles uneasily.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[After a glance at it.] My opinion is that you might
just as well have flung your sovereign into the
gutter !
HORACE.
I admit it was speculative but it may turn out a
winner. It's rather odd it should be so tightly
sealed up.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 17
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[With more interest.] Sealed up, is it? [Coming
down and looking at it more carefullyi\ H'm the
form is certainly antique. It's wonderful what they
can do in Birmingham !
HORACE.
I really think it may have something inside it.
It's not so very heavy, and yet [tapping it] it
doesn't sound quite as if it were empty.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
It might contain something. I think it most
unlikely but still, it might.
SYLVIA.
[Laughing.] You don't mean it might be like that
jar the Fisherman found in " The Arabian Nights,"
with a Genius inside it?
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
I did not mean anything so frivolous, my dear.
And, if you must quote " The Arabian Nights," it's
as well to remember in future that the more correct
term is not "Genius," but "Jinnee." Singular,
Jinnee plural, Jinn.
SYLVIA.
I'll remember, dear. Singular, Jinn plural, Jin-
nies.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Instructively.] A name applied by Arab mythology
B
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to a race of aerial beings, created of the flame of fire,
but capable of assuming human form and exercising
supernatural powers.
SYLVIA.
Oh, do let's open it now and see what is inside !
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Don't be childish, Sylvia, don't be childish ! We've
no time now for idle curiosity. If we're to dress
and be back here by eight o'clock, we ought to start
at once. [MRS. FUTVOYE prepares to go and moves
towards door.] Good-bye, then, Ventimore, for the
present. [He gets his hat and stick.] Tt is not to be an
elaborate entertainment, I trust ? A simple ordinary
little dinner is all 7 require.
HORACE.
[As he opens the door for MRS. FUTVOYE.] I've
tried to remember your tastes, Professor.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
I hope you have succeeded. Good-bye, Pringle.
Very glad to have run across you again. Let us see
more of you in future.
PRINGLE.
[Going to the door with him.] You shall, Professor,
you shall. [Following PROFESSOR and MRS. FUTVOYE
out to landing.] By the way, are you likely to be in
next ?
[HORACE closes door, leaving SYLVIA still
looking at the bottle.
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SYLVIA.
[Turning as he comes down to her.] I'm certain
there must be something inside that jar. And if it's
anything really interesting, father will be so fright-
fully pleased that he won't be disagreeable all the
evening !
HORACE.
[Ruefully.] Ah, I'm afraid that's too much to look
forward to.
SYLVIA.
[Touching his arm with a little gesture of sympathy.]
You poor dear ! You're not beginning to be nervous
about your dinner, are you ?
HORACE.
N no. Not 'nervous exactly. Something might
go wrong. Still, I hope there won't be much your
father can find fault with.
SYLVIA.
I'm sure there won't ! And if he does, why, we
won't mind, will we? We shall be together, you
know !
HORACE.
[Putting his arm round her.] That's what I've
been thinking of all day !
[He kisses her as PRINGLE returns, unseen
by them. His jaw drops as he sees them
together, ,
PRINGLE,
Coming forward.] Er - [HORACE and SYLVIA
20 THE BRASS BOTTLE
separate.] Miss Sylvia the Professor asked me to
tell you
SYLVIA.
I was just coming. [Taking her parasol and moving
to door, which PRINGLE has left open.] Good-bye, Mr.
Pringle. [Stopping HORACE and PRINGLE as they are
about to see her down the stairs.] No, you mustn't
come down, either of you. [To HORACE, with an
affectation of distance, ] Good-bye Mr. Yentimore.
[She goes out.
PRINGLE.
[By the table.] I should like to ask you, Yentimore,
have you known Miss Futvoye long ?
HORACE.
[Still at door, looking after SYLVIA.] A little over
six weeks.
PRINGLE.
And I have known her for as many years!
HORACE.
[Closing door, and coming towards him.] Have you,
though ? I noticed the Professor was uncommonly
cordial to you. Loc k here, are you doing anything
this evening ?
PRINGLE.
Er no. That is, nothing particular. Why ?
HORACE.
Because it would be friendly of you if you'd come
and dine here. TJtey're coming, you know.
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PillNGLE.
I know. [After a moment's hesitation.} Thanks, I
don't mind if I do.
HORACE.
Capital ! Fin sure if any one can keep the old man
in a good humour, you can.
PRINGLE.
[Sourly.] I see. You want me to engage him in
conversation and leave you free to carry on your
flirtation with Miss Futvoye unobserved ?
HORACE.
Not quite that. There's nothing underhand ab^ut
it. We're engaged, you know. ' 1i
PRINGLE.
Engaged ! [After a pause.] And how long have you
been that ?
HORACE.
Only since the day before yesterday.
PRINGLE.
[Blankly] Oh ! [He walks down to window.] I
congratulate you ; er heartily, of course. [Looking
out of window.} And and when do you think of
being married ?
HORACE.
It's no use thinking of that, at present. Not till
the Professor takes a rosier view of my prospects, at
all events. But if, like a good fellow, you could put
22 THE BRASS BOTTLE
in a word for me, it would give me no end of a
leg up !
PRINGLE.
[Dully, with his face still averted.] You don't seem
to realise what you're asking !
HORACE.
[Suddenly understanding, with compunction.] My
dear chap ! [He puts both his hands on PRINGLE'S
shoulders.] What a selfish brute I've been not to see !
I am sorry !
PRINGLE.
[Stiffly] As a matter of fact, I'd quite made up
my mind to propose to her as soon as I'd got those
country jobs off my mind. And now I find you've
cut in before me !
HORACE.
Well, it's straight of you to tell me. I suppose
you'd rather come and dine some other evening ? If
PRINGLE.
No. A promise is a promise. I'll come. Mind
you, I don't pretend it won't be an effort but I'll
see what I can do for you.
HORACE.
[Gratefully.] You are a good chap, Pringle ! one
of the best ! Though, really, after what you've told
me, I hardly like
PRINGLE.
Not another word. Anything I can say on your
THE BRASS BOTTLE 23
behalf without too wide a departure from strict
accuracy I'll say with pleasure. [Going up to door.]
Eight o'clock's the hour, isn't it ? All right, [lie
goes out.]
[HORACE makes a movement towards the fire-
place, as if to ring the bell. Then his eye
is caught by the brass bottle, which is
standing in the centre of the room. He
stops, looks at his watch, and decides that
he has time to open the bottle. He examines
the cap on its neck, then goes to sideboard
and takes from it a heavy paper-weight
and a champagne -opener, returns to chair
on right of table and sits, holding the
bottle between his knees. Using the
champagne-opener as a chisel, and the
paper-weight as hammer, he proceeds to
chip away the deposit round the cap,
whistling an air from a musical comedy
as he works,
HORACE.
[To himself.] I've loosened ,'it. [He seizes the cap
and tries to screw it off] It's giving !
[Suddenly the room is in complete darkness ;
there is a loud report and a spurt ofjlame
from the bottle. HORACE has fallen back
on the floor, with the cap of the bottle in
his hand. There is just light enough to
see a tall weird figure standing with out-
stretched arms behind the bottle.
HORACE.
[Sitting up and rubbing the back of his head;
24 THE BRASS BOTTLE
faintly .] Hullo ! Is any one there ? Who's that
come in ?
THE STRANGER.
[In an attitude of supplication.] Towbah ! Yah
nebbi Ullah ! Anna lah arniii Kathahlik ibadan !
Wullah-hi !
HORACE.
I daresay you're perfectly right, sir but I've no
idea what you're talking about.
THE STRANGER.
[Repeating the Arabic sentence.] Towbah ! (&c. &c.)
Wullah-hi !
HORACE.
[About to raise himself, sees the figure for the first
time, and falls back astonished ; then, recovering him-
self.] I suppose you've just taken the rooms on the
ground-floor so you must be able to make yourself
understood in English ?
THE STRANGER.
[The room has groum lighter, and he is seen to be in
dull-green robes and a high-peaked turban. His long
grey beard is divided into three thin strands ; his eyes
are slightly slanted, and his expression is a curious
mixture of fatuous benignity, simplicity, and cunning.]
Assuredly I can speak so as to be understood of all
men.
HORACE.
Then it's as well to do it. What was it you said
just now ?
THE BRASS BOTTLE 25
THE STRANGER.
I said : " Repentance, Prophet of Allah ! I
will not return to the like conduct ever ! "
HORACE.
Oh, I beg your pardon. [Sitting up again.] Thought
you were speaking to me. But I say \looking up
at him] how do you come to be here ?
THE STRANGER.
Surely by thine own action !
HORACE.
I see. You ran up to see what was the matter.
Fact is, my head's still rather buzzy. I fancy I must
have hit it somehow when I was trying to open that
jar.
THE STRANGER.
Then it was thy hand and none other that removed
the stopper?
HORACE.
I I suppose so. All / know is that something
went off with a bang. I can't imagine what could
have been inside the beastly thing !
THE STRANGER.
AVho else but I myself ?
HORACE.
[Slowly rising to his feet.] You must have your
little joke, eh ? [He reels against the table.} Or did I
misunderstand you ? My head's in such a muddle !
26
THE BRASS BOTTLE
THE STRANGER.
I tell thee that I have been confined within that
accursed vessel for centuries beyond all calculation.
HORACE.
You can't pull my leg like that,
Seriously, just tell me who you are.
you
know !
THE STRANGER.
Know then that he who now addresseth thee is
none other than Fakrash-el-Aamash, a Jinnee of the
Green Jinn.
HORACE.
[Half to himself.] Singular, "Jinnee" plural,
"Jinn." Where did I hear that? I I shall
remember presently.
FAKRASH.
I dwelt in the Palace of the Mountain of the
Clouds in the Garden of Irem, above the City of
Babel.
HORACE.
[To himself.] Why, of course! Sylvia! The
Arabian Nights ! [To FAKRASH.] I can quite account
for you now but go on.
FAKRASH.
For a certain offence that I committed, the wrath
of Suleyman, the son of Daood on whom be peace !
[he salaams] was heavy against me, and he com-
manded that I should be enclosed within a bottle of
THE BRASS BOTTLE 27
brass, and thrown into the Sea of El-Karkar, there
to abide the Day of Doom,
HORACE.
Don't think I'm believing in you, [Walking round
the front of the bottle, as if to test FAKRASH by touching
him.] I've sense enough to know you're not real/
[He withdraws his hand without venturing
upon the experiment.
FAKRASH.
Stroke thy head and recover thy faculties ! I am
real, even as thou art.
[He touches HORACE'S shoulder ; HORACE
recoils.
HORACE.
I shall come round in time ! [By the table , to
FAKRASH.] You tell me you've just come out of this
bottle ?
FAKRASH.
Dost thou doubt that it is even as I have said ?
HORACE.
Well, I should have ^thought myself you'd take a
bigger size in bottles. But of course, I couldn't
doubt you if I saw you get into it again.
FAKRASH.
That would be the easiest of actions ! [He makes
a sudden swooping movement, as though to re-enter the
bottle, and then thinks better of it.] But I should
28 THE BRASS BOTTLE
indeed be a silly -bearded one to do this thing, since
thou mightst be tempted to seal me up once more !
HORACE.
[Disappointed, and backing against table , half
afraid.] Too knowing an old bird to be caught like
that, aren't you ? But 7 don't mind ! You'll disap-
pear presently.
FAKRASH.
True, O young man of perfect qualities and good
works ! But I will not leave thee before I have
rewarded thy kindness. For in the sky it is written
upon the pages of the air : " He who doeth kind
actions shall experience the like ! " Therefore [with
a lordly gesture] demand of me what thou wilt, and
thou shalt receive !
HORACE.
Oh, I shall be awake so soon it's not worth while
troubling you.
FAKRASH.
Dismiss bashfulness from thee. [Advancing towards
him.] For by thy hand hath my deliverance been
accomplished, and if I were to serve thee for a
thousand years, regarding nothing else, even thus
could I not requite thee !
HORACE.
[Retreating in some alarm to window.] Look here.
I don't want anything, and and the beat thing you
can do is to vanish.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 29
FAKRASH.
[At back of table.] Not till thou hast told me thy
name and the trade that thou followest.
HORACE.
Oh, you'll go then? [FAKRASH assents.] Well, I'll
humour you. My name is Horace Ventimore, and
I'm an architect. I get my living by building houses,
you know. Or rather, I should, if I could only get
hold of a client which I can't.
FAKRASH.
[Coming down nearer bottle.] Grant thy servant a
period of delay, and it may be that I can procure
thee a client.
HORACE.
Good old Arabian Nights again ! You'd better
not make the delay long my head will be clear very
soon.
FAKRASH.
Greater rewards by far will I bestow upon thee,
most meritorious of men ! But now [going up to
right] I must leave thee for a season.
HORACE.
I knew I was coming round you'll be gone
directly.
FAKRASH.
Aye, for I must seek out Suleyman [
on whom be peace ! and obtain pardon from him.
[JTe waves his arm, and, the door at back flies open.
30 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
[Eagerly.] Yes I would! You go and do that!
Make haste ! [The door closes, leaving FAKRASH visible
through it in an unearthly light.] Good-bye and good
luck !
FAKRASH.
[Through door.] To thee also ! And be assured
that I will not be unmindful of thy welfare !
[The door becomes solid as FAKRASH vanishes.
HORACE.
[Rubbing his eyes.] What a queer dream ! [He goes
up to the door, opens it, then returns and sits by table.]
So vivid ! [He sees the brass bottle on the floor.]
Open ! [Looking inside it.] Empty ! H'm, better
get it out of the way.
[He takes the bottle in one hand and the cap
in the other, and carries them into the
bedroom on right. The moment he has
gone there is a rush of wind t and
then a heavy thud on the balcony outside,
and MR, WACKERBATH, a stout, pros-
perous-looking, elderly gentleman, in tall
hat, frock-coat, white waistcoat, &c., reels
through the open window into the room,
and sinks into the armchair on left of
table t where he sits puffing and blowing.
MR. WACKERBATH.
[Feebly.] Where am I? How did I ? [He takes
off his hat.] Ah, of course ! I remember now. [He
rises as HORACE enters from bedroom] Mr. ah
Ventimore, I think ? Mr. Horace Ventimorc 2
THE BRASS BOTTLE 31
HORACE.
[Slightly surprised. ] Yes, that's my name. {Offer-
ing chair on right of table.} Won't you sit down ?
MR. WACKERBATH.
Thank you I will. [He sits down.} I I ought to
apologise for dropping in on you in this ah
unceremonious way but I acted, I may say ah
on a sudden impulse.
HORACE.
I'm afraid I haven't much time to spare but if
it's anything of importance
MR. WACKERBATH.
[Panting.} You must give me a little time till
I ah get my wind again.
HORACE.
Certainly. I know the stairs here are rather
steep.
MR. WACKERBATH.
Are they? I don't remember noticing them.
However ! My name, Mr. Yentimore, is Wacker-
bath Samuel Wackerbath, of Wackerbath and
Greatrex, a firm of auctioneers and estate agents
whose name may ah possibly be not unfamiliar
to you.
HORACE.
[Who has obviously never heard it before.} Oh, of
course of course.
32 THE BRASS BOTTLE
MR. WACKERBATH.
I may tell you that for the last few years I have
rented an old place Moatham Abbey they call it
in Surrey, which is not quite as up-to-date as I could
wish in the matter of modern conveniences.
HORACE.
That's not unusual with ancient abbeys, is it ?
MR. WACKERBATH.
'[Solemnly.] Precisely. Well, to come to the point,
I've lately acquired some land in the neighbourhood
of Surrey and Hampshire, with a view to building
a country residence. [HORACE becomes more interested,
and seats himself at table on MR. WACKERBATH'ST-I^.]
You see, there's an excellent site on a hill with a
south aspect, just above the village of Lipsfield, and
overlooking the valley and river
HORACE.
[Making a note.] Well, Mr. Wackerbath ?
MR. WACKERBATH.
Well, as I was saying only a minute or two ago
to a friend as we were crossing Westminster Bridge
on our way to Waterloo [He pauses, with an
endeavour to recollect.] Where was I ?
HORACE.
Waterloo.
MR. WACKERBATH.
Ah, yes. I remarked to him : " All I require is
THE BRASS BOTTLE 33
a thoroughly capable architect." [HORACE grows
alert and excited.] And instantly your name flashed
across my mind. So I ah hurried off at once, and
here I am !
HORACE.
[With a sudden misgiving .] May I ask you you
weren't recommended to me by by [he looks round
at the door through which FAKRASH has vanished]
any one ?
MR. WACKERBATH.
[With dignity.] Certainly not! It was ah
entirely my own idea. But why do you ask ?
[Huffily.] Is an introduction necessary ?
HORACE.
[Relieved.] No, no not in the least ! I I merely
asked. I shall be very pleased to undertake the
commission. Could you give me some idea of the
amount you thought of spending on the house ?
MR. WACKERBATH.
Well, I don't think I could go to more than say,
sixty thousand pounds.
HORACE.
\Half rising in his surprise.] Sixty thousand ! [He
recollects himself, and sits down in assumed calm.] Oh,
not more than that ? I see.
MR. WACKERBATH.
For the house itself. But there'll be the out-
buildings and the decorations. Altogether, I sha'n't
34
THE BRASS BOTTLE
complain so long as the total doesn't exceed a hundred
thousand. I take it that, for that sum, Mr. Venti-
more, you could give me a country-house that I shall
have no cause ah to feel ashamed of.
HORACE.
I can safely promise that. And now when could
I run down and have a look at the site, and go into
the matter thoroughly ?
MR. WACKERBATH.
We must fix a day later. I'm rather in a hurry
now ; and besides, I must consult the wife. Perhaps
you could give me an appointment here ?
HORACE.
These are only my private rooms. I shall be at
my office in Great College Street to-morrow, if you
could look in then. [Giving him card.~\ Here's the
address.
MR. WACKERBATH.
Good ! [He rises and moves towards window, while
HORACE rings bell by fireplace.] I'll look in on my
way from Waterloo to the City. [He perceives that he
is walking out on to a balcony, and turns.] How the
devil did I come in ? I'll be with you at eleven
sharp.
[He goes towards the bedroom door on the
right.
HORACE.
[At door to landing] This way, Mr. Wackerbath.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 35
ME. WACKERBATH.
[ Vaguely. ,] I thought I came that way. [As he goes
up] I can see already that you're the very man for
me. [At door to landing. ] Now I must be off, or I
shall miss my train to Lipsfield. [As HORACE offers
to see him downstairs.] Don't trouble I can find
my way down. Eleven sharp to-morrow. Good
evening.
[As he passes out HORACE touches his back,
as though half suspecting him to be another
illusion. MR. WACKERBATH turns and
shakes hands effusively, then goes out, and
HORACE closes door.
HORACE.
[To himself.] He's no dream, anyhow ! [With
exultation^ A client ! A real client of my own !
At last !
MRS. EAPKIN.
[Enters from landing.] Did you ring for me, sir ?
or was it only to let the gentleman out ?
[She comes down.
HORACE.
Ob, there is something I had to tell you. We
shall be Jive at dinner, not four. You can manage all
right, eh ?
MRS. RAPKIX.
[Comfortably.] Lor, yes, sir. That won't make no
difference !
HORACE.
[In front of table.] By the way, Mrs, Rapkin, you
36 THE BRASS BOTTLE
haven't let your ground-floor yet, have you ? To to
an Asiatic gentleman ?
MRS. RAPKIN.
Me, sir ? Let to a Asiatic ! No, nor wouldn't !
Why, there was Rapkin's own sister-in-law let her
droring-room floor to one. And [darkly] reason
she 'ad to repent of it for all his gold spectacles.
HORACE.
[Relieved.] Ah, I thought you hadn't. [Sits on
table.] Well, about the waiting to-night ? I suppose
I can depend on Rapkin for that, eh ? Where is he ?
MRS. RAPKIX.
Well, sir, not to deceive you, he ain't back yet
from his Public Libery as he calls it.
HORACE.
Oh, that's what he calls it, eh ?
MRS. RAPKIX.
Whatever he's took, sir, you may rely on him to
'and the dishes without 'aving no accidents.
[A noise is heard from the street below, which
gradually resolves itself into an Oriental
chant.
HORACE.
What's going on outside ? [He goes to window ,
looks out, and then starts back uneasily.] I say. It's
it's devilish odd but there seems to me to be a
whole caravan of camels down there !
THE BRASS BOTTLE 37
MRS. RAPKIN.
[Crossing to window.] Camuels, sir ?
HORACE.
Well, you look and see what you make of them !
MRS. RAPKIN.
[Looking down over balcony J\ Lor ! They do look
like camuels, sir or somethink o' that. I expect they
belong to the 'Ippodrome, or else a circus.
HORACE.
[Relieved.] I say, what a sensible woman you are !
Of course ! I never thought of that !
MRS. RAPKIN.
[Still looking out, while the chant finishes with a few
shouts, as though a halt were called] They seem to be
stopping outside'the 'ouse. Them camuels have folded
up, and all the niggers as is with them is a kneelin'
down with their noses on the kerbstone !
HORACE.
[Uncomfortably.} They're only resting. Come away
and don't take any notice. They'll move on presently.
MRS. RAPKIN.
[Still at window.] But they're unpackiri the camuels
now ! And well, if they ain't bringing everythink
in 'ere ! [She retreats to behind the table.
38 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
Great Scott ! [He comes down to left of stage.
MRS. RAPKIN.
They wouldn't be more things as you've been
buying at that auction, sir, would they ?
[The chant is heard now inside the house.
HORACE.
No, no. It's a mistake ! It must be a mistake !
MRS. RAPKIN.
Then I'd better go and tell them
[She moves towards door to landing, but
before she reaches it, it flies open mys-
teriously. A moment afterwards a tall,
fierce Oriental in turban and robes appears
in doorway and salaams. MRS. RAPKIN
recoils with a cry-^ Then a train of black
slaves enter, carrying large sacks, bales,
and chests, which they deposit on the table
and floor, till the room is completely
blocked ; their chief stands down on right,
with his back to the audience, and directs
them by gestures.
HORACE.
Look here ! I say, you fellows ! You've come
to the wrong house !
[ The slaves pay no attention to him.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 39
MRS. RAPKIN.
'Ere ! my good men, what are you comin* in 'ere
for, bringing all your dust into my apartments ?
HORACE.
[Standing paralysed ; to himself. ] We can't both be
dreaming !
MRP. RAPKIN.
[Trying to \remonstrate with slaves.] This rubbish
don't belong 'ere ! I can't 'ave the 'ole place littered
up with it ! You needn't act so ridic'lous if you are
niggers ! [To HORACE.] It ain't no use my talking
to 'em, sir. They're not like Christians they're deaf
and dumb, seemingly ! You try !
HORACE
[Going to the HEAD SLAVE, who salaams as he
approaches.] Can you understand if I ask a question ?
[The HEAD SLAVE salaams again.] Well, I I know
it seems a silly thing to ask but but you don't
happen to be sent here by by anybody with a name
something like Fakrash ? [The HEAD SLAVE implies
by a gesture that this is so.] You have! . . . Well,
look here. / don't want 'em. I decline to take 'em
in. You have all these things put on the camels
again, and clear out ! Do you see what I mean ?
[By this time the other slaves have gone; the HEAD
SLAVE signifies in pantomime that the things are
HORACE'S, salaams, and goes out, the door closing behind
him mysteriously.] I don't believe that idiot under-
stands now ! They've gone oft' to fetch more 1
40 THE BRASS BOTTLE
MRS. RAPKIN.
[Who has returned to window.] They've gone off
altogether, sir. I can't see nothink now but a cloud
of dust.
HORACE.
[Sinks into chair on right of table with his head
buried in his hands.] The fools ! The confounded
fools!
MRS. RASKIN,
[Comes to table and looks for HORACE in vain.]
Sir ! Sir ! [Sees him over the bales, &c.] Sir ! Where
are you going to 'ave your dinner-party now ?
HORACE,.
[Forlornly.] Oh, I don't know I don't know !
Don't worry me now, Mrs. Rapkin ! Go away!
Can't you see I want to think I want to think !
MRS. RAPKIN.
[As she goes towards door at back.] "Well, I must say
and I do say that if this 'ad to 'appen, it couldn't
have come more ill-convenient ! [She goes out.
[As soon as she has gone HORACE rises and
comes to an antique-looking trunk on left ;
he opens it, and brings out an enormous
emerald and ruby, each the size of a
cocoa-nut ; he looks at them for a moment
in dismay, and drops them back with a
groan. Then he crosses to a sack on the
right, opens it, and brings out an immense
diamond. / While he is doing all this,
THE BRASS BOTTLE 41
FAKRASH has risen from among the bales
behind the table, and watches him with
benign complacency.
HORACE.
[As he returns the diamond to the sack.] Oh ! damn
it all !
FAKRASH.
My son !
HORACE.
[Recoiling on sacks.] I'm not dreaming now ! I'm
awake ! And yet all that story of yours about your
being shut up in a brass bottle ? I did dream that
eh*
FAKRASH.
Nay, it is even as I told thee.
HORACE.
A nd it was you who sent me all these things ?
FAKRASH.
A few trifling gifts by no means suited to thy
dignity ! Thou owest me no thanks.
HORACE.
I I'd rather not owe you anything. I mean I
can't possibly accept any presents from you.
FAKRASH,
Nay, they are freely thine.
THE BRASS BOTTLE\
HORACE,
I don't want to be ungracious, but I must decline
to be under any obligation whatever to a well, to a
perfect stranger like yourself.
FAKRASH.
Hast thou not placed me under the heaviest of
obligations by delivering me from a bottle of brass ?
To escape out of a bottle is pleasant !
HORACF.
So I should imagine. But, you see, I'd no notion
what I was doing or well, it's done now, and if you
really wish to show your gratitude for a very trifling
service, I'Jl tell you how you can do it. [In a tone of
earnest entreaty.] Take back all these gifts of yours,
and let me alone !
FAKRASH,
[Beaming.] Truly I am amazed by thy modesty and
magnanimity !
HORACE.
I'm not magnanimous I'm devilish annoyed !
[Exasperated.] Hang it all ! Can't you understand
that all these things are no earthly use to me ? You
might just as well have sent me so many white
elephants !
FAKRASH,
As thou pleasest ! To send thee elephants yea,
even in abundance will be no difficult undertaking.
[Jfe makes a movement as though about to
summon them.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 43
HORACE.
[Aghast.] Good Lord ! Don't you go wasting white
elephants on me I You take everything so literally !
All / meant was that if these things were white
elephants, instead of what they are, I couldn't be
more embarrassed ! Now do you see ?
FAR RASH.
[Coming down to right.] Thou seemest to me to be
despising riches beyond all price.
HORACE.
Exactly ! Because they are beyond all price !
Look at those sacks bulging, simply bulging with
diamonds and rubies and emeralds as big as ostrich
eggs! Well, I can't wear 'em. They'd be too
dressy ! I can't sell 'em no one could afford to buy
a single one of 'em ! And how am I to account for
having them at all ?
FAKRASH.
Thou canst surely say that they are presents to
thee from Fakrash-el-Aamash, a Jinnee of the Green
Jinn, in return for thy kindness in releasing him
from a bottle of brass.
HORACE.
Oh, can I? I fancy I see myself giving that
explanation! [More mildly.] No, Fakrash, -you
meant well but the kindest thing you can do t is to
remove all this at once
44
THE BRASS BOTTLE
FAKRASH.
This is a thing that cannot be. For to bestow
gifts and receive them back disgraceth the giver.
HORACE.
Nob when the gifts are only in the way. [He nearly
trips over a sack.] Just look at this room !
FAKRASH.
Verily it is but a miserable apartment for a person
of thy distinction !
HORACE.
It's quite good enough for me when it isn't
lumbered up like this. I'm expecting friends to
dinner this evening, and how the deuce am I to
entertain them comfortably unless you make it
possible for me ?
FAKRASH.
[Benevolently.] Have no uneasiness. I will see
that thou art enabled to entertain thy guests as is
fitting.
HORACE.
Good ! [At window.] Then you'll send for that
caravan of yours ?
FAKRASH.
I hear and obey.
[He goes towards door at back and waves his
hand. The door flies open. The chant
is\heard as before. A pause, after which
the HEAD SLAVE enters and salaams.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 45
Then the train of black slaves pour in
noiselessly, and proceed to earthy out the
chests t &c., and throw the bales out over
the balcony.
HORACE.
[Encoiiraging them.] That's right ! All those are
to go. Put your back into it ! [To some slaves who
are throwing down bales from the balcony.] Do be
careful ! You nearly bowled a camel over that time !
[The last slave has gone out with a sack from which an
immense blue jewel has rolled ; HORACE picks it up
and calls after him.] ffi ! You've dropped a little
sapphire thing ! [The HEAD SLAVE takes the sapphire
from him and salaams.] Sure you've got the lot ?
All right ! Good day ! [The HEAD SLAVE makes a
final salaam and goes out t the door closing after him
mysteriously; HORACE approaches FAKRASH.] It's
awfully nice of you not to be offended, old fellow, and
I'm just as much obliged as if I'd kept the things,
you know.
FAKRASH.
It is no matter. Thou shalt receive other rewards
more to thy liking.
HORACE.
[Alarmed.] No, no ! I assure you I don't want
anything. I can get along quite well by myself.
Because of course, you wouldn't know it, but
[with pride] I've got a client now !
FAKRASH.
[Calmly.] I know it. Was he not my first gift
unto thee ?
46 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
[Staggered.} -Your first ? No, no don't you go
taking credit for that ! He assured me himself that
he came of his own accord !
FAKRASH.
He knew no better. Nevertheless it was I that
procured him for thee.
HORACE.
How?
FAKRASH.
[Airily] In the easiest manner possible. Having
remarked him upon a bridge, I transported him
instantly to thy dwelling, impressing him without his
knowledge with thy names and thy marvellous
abilities.
HORACE.
[Horrified to himself.} Good Lord ! He said he
came in by the window ! [To FAKRASH.] So you did
that, did you ? Then you took a confounded liberty !
You'd no business to introduce clients to me in that
irregular way ! Don't you ever do this sort of thing
again ! Just attend to your own affairs in future.
I understood you were going off in search of Suley-
man. It's high time you started. You won't find
him in this country, you know.
FAKRASH.
He is on some journey for in Jerusalem itself
could I find no sign of him.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 47
HORACE.
Oh, come ! You can't have flown as far as
Jerusalem and back already !
FAKRASH.
Know'st thou not that, to a Jinnee of the Jinn,
distance is but a trifling matter ?
HORACE.
So much the better ! You'll be back in the East
all the sooner. And when you are there, you stay
there. Don't get disheartened if you don't find
Suleyman directly. Keep on pegging away till you
do ! Why, the mere travelling will be a pleasant
change for you !
FAKRASH.
[On right of table ; sententiously .] Well and' wisely
was it written : " In travel there are five advan-
tages. [Proceeding to enumerate them on his fingers.]
The first of these is
HORACE.
[Impatiently, as he moves to his bedroom door on
right.] I know, I know ! Don't you bother to run
through them now I've got to dress for dinner.
Just you bundle off to Arabia and search for Suley-
man like billy-oh. Good-bye !
FAKRASH.
May Allah never deprive thy friends of thy pres-
ence ! Never have I encountered a mortal who has
pleased me so greatly !
48 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
[At bedroom door.] Awfully good of you to say so !
FAKRASH.
Farewell ! Prepare to receive a reward beyond
all thine expectations !
[He waves his arm, and for ten seconds the
room is in utter darkness. There are
sounds as of a rushing wind and crashes
and rumblings. Then the glimmer of
three Arabian hanging lanterns is seen
faintly illuminating a large central arch
and two smaller side ones. An immense
perforated lantern hanging from the
domed roof then becomes lit, and reveals
an octagonal hall with four curtained
arches, the fourth, down on the right, being
where HORACE'S bedroom door had been.
The walls are decorated in crimson, blue,
and gold arabesques. Above the bedroom
door is a low divan with richly embroidered
cushions. Opposite to it, on the left, is a
similar divan. High in the wall overhead is
a window with gilded lattice-work, through
Jwhich is seen a soft blue evening sky.
HORACE.
[With his back to the audience.] Great Scott ! What's
that old idiot let me in for now ?
MRS. RAPKIN.
[Heard outside the arch up on right of central arch.]
Oh, whatever is it now ? What's 'appened ? [She
THE BRASS BOTTLE 49
enters.} Goodness gracious ! Mr. Ventimore, sir
what's come to the 'ouse ?
HORACE.
Then you see a difference, Mrs. Rapkin ?
MRS. RAPKIN.
I don't see nothink as ain't different. For mercy's
sake, sir, Ws been alterin' of it like this ?
HORACE.
Well, / haven't.
MRS. RAPKIN.
But where are you going to 'ave your dinner-party
now, sir ?
[HORACE.
Where ? Why, here ! There's lots of room.
MRS. RAPKIN.
But I don't see no dinner-table, nor yet no side-
board.
HORACE.
Never mind never mind ! Don't make difficulties,
Mrs. Rapkin. You must manage somehow.
MRS. RAPKIN.
I'll try, sir, but not to deceive you I feel that
upset I 'ardly know where I wm.
D
50 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
You you'll get used to it. [Persuasively] And
you're going to see me through this, I'm sure. I
must go and dress now. [Looking round the hall.] I
suppose you haven't any idea where my bedroom is ?
MRS. RAPKIN.
I've no idea where any of the rooms has got to,
sir !
HORACE.
[Going to arch down on right,] I expect it's through
here.
[As he goes out, RAPKIN enters from the arch
on left of central arch. He is respectably
dressed type of elderly retired butler;
just now he is slightly and solemnly
ddled.
MRS. RAPKIN.
William, this is a pretty state o' things !
RAPKIN.
What's marrer, M'rire? I'm all ri\ On'y bin
a-improviu' o' my mind in Public Libery.
MRS. RAPKIN.
Public Libery, indeed ! You and your Public
Libery.
RAPKIN.
It's pos'tive fac'. Bin p'rusin' En-ensicklypejia
Britannia.
[He stands blinking and slightly swaying.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 51
MBS. RAPKIN.
But do you mean to say you don't see nothing ?
RAPKIN,
[Muzv&y.] Not over distinct, M'rire. Gurus opt'cal
d'lusion due to overshtudy everything's spinnin'
round. 'Ave I stepped into Alhambra, or 'ave I
not ? That's all / want to know.
HORACE.
[Outside Jrom right.] That you, Rapkin ? I want
you.
MRS. RAPKIN.
[To RAPKIN.] You ast 'im where you are he's
better able to tell you than I am. I'm going back to
my kitching.
[She hesitates for a moment as to which arch
to go out by, and finally goes out by the
one on right of central arch.
HORACE.
[Outside.] Rapkin, I say! [Then entering from
the lower arch on right as soon as MRS. RAPKIN has
gone ; he, is wearing a richly embroidered Oriental robe,
<i-c., and a jewelled turban and plume, of which he
is entirely unconscious.] Oh, there you are ! Don't
stand there gaping like a fish at a flower-show!
Where the deuce are my evening clothes ?
RAPKIN.
[Staring at him] I don't know if it's 'noiher
opt'cal d'lusion but you appear t' me to ha' gorrem
on.
52 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
Eh, what ? Nonsense ! [Suddenly discovering that
he is in a robe and turban.] Hang it ! I can't dine
in these things! Just see if you can't find no,
there's no time. You haven't changed yet! Look
sharp, the people will be here in a minute or two
you must be ready to open the door to them.
RAPKIN.
[Looking round the hall.] I don't seem to see no
doors on'y arches. I can't open a arch even if it
would stay still.
HORACE.
Pull yourself together, man! [He twists RAPKIN
sharply round.] Come, a little cold water on your
head will soon bring you round.
RAPKIN.
I'm comin' round. Don't see s'many arches
already !
MRS. RAPKIN.
[Rushing in from arch on right of centre arch.] Oh,
William, William ! Come away at once !
RAPKIN.
[Peacefully.] I'm aw'ri, M'rire !
MRS. RAPKIN.
[Seeing HORACE'S costume.] Oh, Mr. Ventimore,
who's been and dressed you up like that ? Why, it's
THE BRASS BOTTLE
53
'ardly Christian ! [To RAPKIN.] Corne away out of
this 'orrible 'ouse, do !
RAPKIN.
What's 'orrible about it ?
MRS. RAPKIN.
Everything! Can't you see it's all turned into
Arabian 'alls ?
RAPKIN.
Is it? [He suddenly becomes indignant,] 'Go's bin
and took sech a liberty ?
MRS. RAPKIN,
Ah, you may well ask ! Oh, Mr, Ventimore.
[Grossing to HORACE.] You've a deal to answer for,
you 'ave !
RAPKIN.
What ? 9 Im ? *E*s done it all ?
HORACE.
Mrs. Rapkin, don't you lose your head ! I depend
on you, you know. Get your husband away and
make him sober or the dinner's bound to come to
grief !
MRS. RAPKIN.
Dinner indeed ! And me unable to get into my
own kitching for them nasty niggers o' yours as is
swarmin' there like beedles ! The gell's bolted already,
54 THE BRASS BOTTLE
and you and me '11 go next, William, for stay under
this roof with sech I won't !
[She drags RAPKIN by tfte arm to arch up on
right.
HORACE.
I say, Mr. Rapkin, don't you two desert me now !
Just think of the hole I'm in !
MRS. RAPKIN.
Bern' a 'ole of your own makin', sir, you can get
out of it yourself ! Come, William !
RAPKIN.
I'm comin', M'rire ! [As he is dragged through arch
by MRS. RAPKIN.] You'll 'ear more o' this, Mr.
Yentimore !
HORACE,
[Alone on stage,] What's to be done now ? Can't
dine here ! [The front door bell rings with a long
jangling tingle.'] There they are ! What am I to do
with 'em ? It'll have to be the Carlton, after all ! [He
glances down at his robes.] Can't go like this, though !
[He tries to take off his turban.] This damned thing
won't come off ! [Searching himself for money.] And
where are my pockets ? [With resigned despair.] Well,
I suppose I must let them in, and and tell 'em how
it is!
[As he turns to go up to the centre arch, the
hangings are drawn back with a rattle,
disclosing a smaller hall behind. A row
of sinister -looking but richly robed black
slaves forms on each side of the arch ; a
THE BRASS BOTTLE 55
still more richly dressed CHIEF SLAVE
salaams to HORACE, and with a magnifi-
cent gesture tishers in the PROFESSOR,
MRS. FUTVOYE, and SYLVIA, to each of
whom the double row of slaves salaam
obsequiously, to their intense amazement.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Coming down to the right and looking round him.]
Why, why, why ? What's all this ? Where are we *
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Following him closely.] We've evidently mistaken
the house !
SYLVIA.
[Following her mother, and suddenly seeing HORACE.]
But surely that's yes, it is Horace !
[At a gesture from their chief, the slaves
retire, and he follows.
HORACE.
[JF^A some constraint, but trying to seem at his ease.]
Yes, it's me all right. There's no mistake. Most
awfully glad to see you !
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Dear me! [Coming towards HORACE.] I really
didn't recognise you for the moment.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Snappishly,] I don't know who would !
56 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
Oh, ah you mean in these things. I I must
apologise for not dressing, Mrs. Futvoye, but the fact
is, I I found myself like this, and I hadn't time to
put on anything else.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Crossing to HORACE.] Any apologies for the sim-
plicity of your costume are quite unnecessary.
SYLVIA.
You really are magnificent, Horace ! My poor
frock is simply nowhere !
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Glaring round.] I observe that this is a very
different room from the one we were in this
afternoon,
HORACE.
Ah, I thought you'd notice that! [Deciding on
perfect candour.] I I'd better tell you about that.
The the fact is
[He starts nervously, as the hangings of
the centre arch are drawn back once
more, the slaves form a double row, and
their chief appears, beckoning to some one
to follow him.
PRINGLE.
[Heard outside, addressing CHIEF SLAVE.] Mr.
Pringle. Mr. Spencer Pringle. . . . Oh, if you can't
THE BRASS BOTTLE
57
manage it, it don't matter ! [He enters, and stares
at the salaaming slaves, then round the hall.] My
aunt !
HORACE.
[Coming forward.] Here you are, eh, old fellow ?
[The slaves go out.
PRINGLE.
[Staring after the slaves.] Yes, here I am, [Re-
proachfutty, as he observes HORACE'S costume.] You
might have told me it was a fancy-dress affair.
HORACE.
It isn't. I I'll explain presently,
PRINGLE.
[Sees the FUTVOYES, and crosses to them.] How do
you do again, Miss Sylvia? How are you, Mrs.
Futvoye ? We meet sooner than we expected, eh ?
[Turning to the PROFESSOR.] Well, Professor, I sup-
pose you weren't surprised at finding our good host
in [he looks round the hall again] this exceedingly
snug little sanctum ? I must confess / am.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
My dear fellow, you can't be more surprised than
we are !
PRINGLE.
[With satisfaction.] You don't mean it! [Turning
to HORACE, who is on the other side of the hall, talking
to MRS. FUTVOYE and SYLVIA.] Then you've only just
got this place finished, eh, Ventimore ?
THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
That's all, Pringle.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
To build and decorate such a place as this must
have cost a very considerable sum of money.
HORACE.
You'd think so, wouldn't you ? But it didn't.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Coming towards him.] And that costume you're
wearing, those negroes in rich liveries, all this
senseless profusion and display we see around us
are you going to tell me they haven't cost you
anything ?
HORACE.
I I was going to explain about that. It's a most
extraordinary thing, but well, you remember that
old brass bottle I showed you this afternoon ?
PROFESSOR FUTYOYE.
Remember it ? Of course I remember it ! But
what of it, sir, what of it ?
HORACE.
Why er in a manner of speaking everything
you see here has er more or less come out of that
bottle
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE,
[Infuriated.} That is enough, sir, that is enough !
You choose to give me a frivolous answer! I will
THE BRASS BOTTLE 59
not submit to be treated like this I would rather
leave the house at once. And I will, too !
[He makes a movement towards the arch.
SYLVIA and her mother look on in distress,
and PRINGLE with secret gratification.
HORACE.
No, but I haven't finished ! You see, it was like
this : When I opened the bottle
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Savagely. ] Tchah ! As you seern unable to realise
that this is not a fit time for fooling, I will not stay
here to be trifled with. Sophia, Sylvia, we must find
some other place to dine in !
SYLVIA.
[Going to HORACE, and speaking in a rapid under-
tone.] Horace! Can't you see ? He means it. You
must be serious or else !
HORACE.
[To her.] Yes, I see. . . . Professor, I'm sorry. I
I never thought you'd be annoyed. All I really
meant by by my feeble little joke was to tell you
in a sort of figurative way, do you see ? that that
my luck has turned at last.
THE OTHERS.
[Together.] Turned ? Now turned ? What do you
mean ?
60 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
Well, I've got a client.
THE OTHERS.
[As before^ A client? How? Where? When?
HORACE.
Just after you all left this afternoon. A clinking
good client, too ! He's asked me to build him a big
country-house, and my commission can't come to less
than seven or eight thousand pounds.
PRINGLE.
[At, the end of a general chorus of surprise.] Seven
or eight thousand ! [Incredulously.] May we know
the name of this wonderful client of yours ?
HORACE.
It's a Mr. Samuel Wackerbath, a big City
auctioneer, I believe.
SYLVIA.
Why, he's my godfather !
MRS. FUTVOYE.
An old friend of ours. Eliza Wackerbath and I
were at school together.
HORACE.
[To PROFESSOR.] So you see, sir, I I'm not so badly
off as you thought. lean afford to to launch out
a bit.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 61
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Somewhat mollified.} Hardly, I should have
thought, to this extent. However, in the circum-
stances, I consent to remain.
SYLVIA.
[In an undertone to HORACE.] I thought it was all
over with us !
HORACE.
[In the same to her.] So did I ! But I think I'm
out of the cart this time.
[He goes up towards the left, talking to her.
PRINGLE.
[Crossing to the PROFESSOR ; in an undertone.] So
glad you decided to stay, Professor. I was really
half afraid you'd go as a protest against all this
ostentation.
[MRS. FUTVOYE is admiring the workmanship
of the hangings.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[In an undertone to PRINGLE.] I should have done
so, Pringle, I should have done so but for the
inconvenience of dining elsewhere at this hour.
[Aloud, to HORACE.] Ventimore! [PRINGLE joins
MRS. FUTVOYE.] I don't know if you are getting
hungry, but I own / am. Will it be long before
they announce dinner ?
62 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
[Turning, with a start.] Dinner ? Oh, I hope not
I mean, I think not.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
I see no table is laid here. [Acidly.] But probably
you have an equally spacious dining-hall adjoining
this?
HORACE.
Yes. That is, probably, you know. I mean, it's
quite possible.
[The curtains of the arch on left of centre arch
are drawn.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Do you mean to tell me you haven't settled yet
where we are to dine ?
HORACE.
[At a loss for an instant, then he suddenly sees the
slaves enter from the arch on left, bearing a low round
table, which they place in the centre of the halL] Oh, we
dine here, of course ! here. I I leave it to these
fellows.
[Four of the slaves fetch cushions and arrange
them as seats around the table, the CHIEF
SLAVE directing them.
PRINGLE.
I say, Ventimore, what an odd idea of yours,
THE BRASS BOTTLE 63
having all these black footmen ! Don't you find them
a nuisance at times ?
HORACE.
Oh, they they've only come in for the evening.
You see they're er quieter than the ordinary
hired waiter and and they don't blow on the top
of your head.
SYLVIA.
[In an undertone, nervously.} Horace ! I don't like
them ! They're so creepy -crawly, somehow !
HORACE.
[Suppressing his own antipathy.} After all, darling,
we we mustn't forget that they're men and
brothers. [To the others, as the CHIEF SLAVE advances
to him and makes elaborate gesticulations.'] I think
what he means is that dinner is served. Shall we
sit down ?
MRS. FUTVOYE.
1 don't see any chairs.
HORACE.
N o< it it's such a low table, you see. So we sit
on cushions. M much better fun !
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Grimly, ,] May I ask if the entire dinner is to be
carried out on strictly Arabian principles ?
64 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
[Helplessly] I I rather think that is the idea.
I hope you don't mind, Professor ?
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
I am in your hands, sir, in your hands ! Sophia !
[He indicates to MRS. FUTVOYE that she is
expected to sit down, and seats himself on
the right of table with many precautions ;
HORACE leads MRS. FUTVOYE to a cushion
on his right, and establishes SYLVIA on his
left, inviting PRINGLE to the place below
MRS. FUTVOYE and opposite the PRO-
FESSOR. A slave brings on a large
covered golden dish, which he places on
the table in front of HORACE.
HORACE.
[ With a pathetic attempt to be cheery, as another slave
raises the cover] Ha ! Now we shall see what they've
given us !
\The expressions of the party indicate that,
whatever the food may be f its savour is not
exactly appetising.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
I should just like to remark that, having lived in
the East myself and had considerable experience of
native cooking, I expect to be extremely unwell
to-morrow.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 6$
HORACE.
Let's hope for the best, Professor, hope for the
best! [Turning to the CHIEF SLAVE behind him.]
But, I say ! You've forgotten the knives and
forks. Nobody has any ! What are these fellows
about? [The CHIEF SLAVE explains in pantomime
that fingers and thumbs are all that is necessary ]
Eh ? Do without them ? Dip into the dish and
help ourselves ? Oh if you say we've got to !
[To MBS. FUTVCXXE.] Mrs. Futvoye, can I persuade
you to er have first dip ?
MRS, FUTVOYE.
Really, Horace, I must get my gloves off first !
[She removes them.
HORACE.
It does seem a little messy. But quite Arabian,
you know quite Arabian!
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[ Vainly trying to reach the dish,] I'm [such a long
way off !
HORACE,
Yes. I think we'd better all er close up a bit,
[They all work themselves up uncomfortably
on their respective cushions nearer the
table.
E
66 THE BRASS BOTTLE
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[As HORACE takes MRS, FUTVOYE'S and SYLVIA'S
fight hands and guides them to the dish,] And he calls
this a simple, ordinary little dinner !
CURTAIN
THE SECOND ACT
The scene is the Arabian Hall an hour later. The
slaves are offering the guests water in golden bowls,
and insisting on imping their hands for them, an
attention which the PROFESSOR resents.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Ventimore !
HORACE.
[Seated in utter dejection."] Yes, Professor ?
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
I infer from the fact that the last course seemed to
be something in the nature of ah sweets
[MRS. FUTVOYE and PRINGLE exchange glances,
and sigh audibly.
HORACE,
They were rather beastly, weren't they ?
[A slave takes the PROFESSOR'S hands with
great respect, and inserts them into the
bowl.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
As I was saying, I infer from that, and the cir^
cumstance that your attendant has again attempted
67
68 THE BRASS BOTTLE
to wash my hands, that the ah banquet has come
to an end. Is that so ?
HORACE.
[Miserably.] I hope so ! I mean I think so.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Then, as I have been suffering agonies of cramp
from having had to sit for an hour on a cushion with
my legs crossed, I should be glad, with your per-
mission, to stretch them again.
HORACE.
So sorry ! Mrs. Futvoye, shall we ?
[He helps MRS. FUTVOYE and SYLVIA to rise.
PRINGLE has also risen; the PROFESSOR
remains on his cushion.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
7 should be glad of some slight assistance.
[SYLVIA comes to him; HORACE and MRS.
FUTVOYE are by the divan on the left.
PRINGLE.
[Crossing in front of table.'] Allow me, Professor,
allow me ! [He helps him to his feet.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Thank you, Pringle, thank you. A word with
y OU [drawing him away to the right, while SYLVIA
THE BRASS BOTTLE 69
joins her mother and HORACE up on the left]
Pringle. [Lowering his voice.] I declare to you that
never, never have I been called upon to swallow a
more repulsive and generally villainous meal ! And
that in a life which has had its ah ups and downs !
PRINGLE.
It's the same here, I can assure you, I don't
understand our host's partiality for Arab cookery.
And the wine ! [With a reminiscent shudder.] Did you
try the wine ?
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
I did. It must have been kept in a goat-skin for
years ! And yet he must have spent a perfectly
scandalous amount on this preposterous banquet of
his!
PRINGLE.
A small fortune! Ah, well I suppose he feels
entitled to indulge in these costly fancies now.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
He's no business to just after he's engaged to my
daughter !
PRINGLE.
Ah ! It's a thousand pities. Still he may give
up some of this magnificence, when he's married.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
I shall take very good care he does that if he
marries Sylvia at all !
[He lowers his voice still more, and the con-
versation continues in dumb show, PRINGLE
70 TtfE BRASS BOTTLE
by his manner showing that he is doing
all in his power to prejudice HORACE
while ostensibly defending him. The
slaves return, clear away cushions, and
remove the table.
HORACE.
[To MRS. FUTVOYE, while SYLVIA stands slightly
apart with a somewhat resentful expression.] It's
awfully kind of you to be so nice about it but I
know only too well you can't really have enjoyed it.
It was a shocking bad dinner from start to finish !
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Tolerantly.] Oh, you mustn't say that ! Perhaps,
next time, if you could tell your landlady not to scent
all the dishes quite so strongly with musk
HORACE.
I shall certainly mention that if I get the chance.
[Looking across at the PROFESSOR, whose temper is
evidently rising.] I'm afraid the Professor won't get
over this in a hurry.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Perhaps I'd better go and see how he's feeling.
[She crosses, leaving HORACE with SYLVIA.
HORACE.
[To SYLVIA.] I can guess how you're feeling about
this.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 71
SYLVIA.
[Coldly.] Can you ? Then it isn't necessary for
me to tell you.
HORACE.
No, I this little dinner of mine hasn't turned out
quite as we expected, has it ?
SYLVIA.
I don't know what you expected / thought it
was going to be so delightful ! . . How could you
be so foolish ?
HORACE.
You see, dear, you don't understand how it all
came about yet. If you'd only let me tell you
SYLVIA.
I think you had much better say no more about it,
HORACE,
Ah, but I can't! T must get it off my chest,
[Before he can begin the slaves enter once more, and
shift the divans on either side to lower and rather more
oblique positions, after which the HEAD SLAVE approaches
HORACE, and makes signs.] What do you want ?
SYLVIA.
[Clinging to HORACE.] Oh, don't let him come too
near me !
HORACE.
[As the CHIEF SLAVE repeats the signs.] He sha'n't,
72 THE BRASS BOTTLE
darling but he's quite friendly. He's only suggesting
that we should sit down.
[HORACE and SYLVIA sit on the divan on left.
The CHIEF SLAVE turns to PROFESSOR and
repeats the gestures.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Puzzled and irritable.] What does he want me to
do now?
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Soothingly. 1 Why, to sit down, of course, and take
your coffee comfortably.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Appeased.] Oh, is that it ? [Going to divan on right.]
I sha'n't be sorry to rest my back against something.
[Sitting.] You'd better sit down yourself, Sophia.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Placidly.] I was going to, Anthony.
[She sits on the PROFESSOR'S left.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Plenty of room for you, Pringle. [PRINGLE seats
himself on PROFESSOR'S right.] I think I might feel
better after a cup of strong coffee Turkish coffee
and perhaps a glass of liqueur brandy. [As the CHIEF
SLAVE moves up to the centre arch without paying any
attention to him.] As you said, Pringle, the attendance
is disgraceful ! [Raising his voice, and calling across to
HORACE.] Ventimore, is your ah major-domo
going to bring us our coffee and what not soon ?
THE BRASS BOTTLE 73
HORACE.
At once, Professor, at once I
[Ne claps his hands, and the CHIEF SLAVE
stalks forward majestically.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
And a cigar a good cigar, if it's not asking too
much?
HORACE.
What am I thinking of? Of course! [To the
CHIEF SLAVE.] Serve coffee at once, please. [The CHIEF
SLAVE expresses in pantomime that he fails to under-
stand HORACE'S desires.] I said " Coffee." You know
what coffee is ! [Apparently the CHIEF SLAVE does not.]
I never saw such a fellow ! Well, cigars, then !
Come, you must know them ! Things to smoke ?
[He imitates the action of smoking. The CHIEF SLAVE
seems to take this as a dismissal. Re salaams, motions
to the other slaves to retire, upon which they all go out,
then salaams once more and stalks off] That beggar
must be a born idiot ! / can't make him understand.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Drily.] So I perceive. No matter, I must do
without my usual after-dinner coffee, that's all ! But
at least, Yentimore, you must know where to lay
your hand on your cigar-box !
HORACE.
I did before the place was altered so, but I'm
74 THE BRASS BOTTLE
not sure if [He rises.] I'll just go and have a look
in my bedroom.
[He crosses and goes out by the lower arch on
the right.]
PEINGLE.
[To the PROFESSOR.] Seems to me that Oriental
hospitality has been rather over-rated !
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Gloomily."] Ah ! I know I wish I'd ordered our
cab for ten o'clock, instead of eleven ! Receiving us
with all this ostentation, and yet grudging us the
most ordinary comforts I can't understand it !
PRINGLE.
[Rising."] It may be his notion of humour. [As he
moves across to SYLVIA.] If you and Mrs. Futvoye
and Miss Sylvia will only give me the pleasure of
dining with me some night at the Holborn, or
rather the Savoy I would endeavour to wipe out
the memory of this evening's sufferings.
[He takes HORACE'S place by SYLVIA'S side.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Whenever you please, my dear Pringle, whenever
you please, and the sooner the better! Sophia!
[He turns to MRS. FUTVOYE, and discovers that she is
gently dozing.] Asleep ! How she can do it ! but I
won't disturb her now. [To HORACE, who returns
from arch down right] Well ? Have you found
your cigars ?
THE BRASS BOTTLE 75
HORACE.
[Standing in centre depressed.] No. There's nothing
in there except that beastly brass bottle. I am so
sorry !
SYLVIA.
[Rising and going to HORACE.] Horace ! It is all
over, isn't it ? You're sure there's nothing more to
come?
[Pni'KQi.TZ, finding himself deserted, returns to
his place on the divan by the PROFESSOR.
HORACE.
[Looking round anxiously^] I I hope not. No, I
think we're all right. We shall have no more
trouble now all those black Johnnies have cleared
out.
[ A t this moment there is a confused sound of
Oriental instruments outside, with wailing
cries. SYLVIA turns from HORACE, and
goes back indignantly to the divan on the
left. HORACE follows, and sits by her*
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Waking up as the music stops.] Dear me! What
is that horrible noise ? Not cats ?
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Cats ! No, it's Arab music ! [To HORACE.] So
you've a fresh surprise in store for us, eh, sir ?
76 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
[Forlornly.] It it does sound rather like it,
Professor.
[Four negro musicians enter, playing a tom-
tom, mandoline, flageolet, and native fiddle
respectively, while they chant a weird ditty,
and sit cross-legged, right and left of the
central arch.
SYLVIA.
[As the music stops.] Horace, this is really too bad
of you ! You assured me there was nothing more
coming !
[She turns her shoulder on him with marked
displeasure.
PRINGLE.
So you keep a private band, do you, Ventimore ?
HORACE.
No, no, of course I don't. It it's only engaged
for the evening.
PRINGLE.
I see. Hired from the Arab encampment at
Earl's Court, eh ?
HORACE.
[Irritated.] You've guessed it first time, Pringle !
PRINGLE.
That's odd. Because, now I come to think of it,
there isn't any Arab encampment there this season.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 77
HORACE.
Then they come from somewhere else. At all
events, they're playing here for nothing.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Ah ! They know their own value !
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Now, Anthony, you're finding fault before they've
even begun f [She rises.] That was only tuning, of
course ! [She passes in front of the MUSICIANS, and
then comes down to HORACE.] Can they play English
music ? Do ask them if they know " The Choristers."
HORACE,
I'm afraid they're not at all likely to be familiar
with it.
[The MUSICIANS begin once more, and MRS.
FUTVOYE retreats hastily to the divan, as
they sing and play for a few bars in
hideous cacophony.
PRINGLE.
[As they stop once more.] Vocal as well as instru-
mental, eh? Are they going to give us any more
little things like that, Yentimore ?
HORACES
No^ Not if I know it ! They've done now !
[At this the music starts again, louder and
more discordant than ever.
THE BRASS BOTTLE
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE,
[Springing to his feet in a fury, and shouting.]
Ventimore ! You must put a stop to this abominable
din ! Do you hear ? I can't and won't put up
with it !
HORACE.
[Rising, and going to the MUSICIANS.] Here, you
chaps ! Hi ! That's enough ! [He claps his hands.]
Get out ! Get out !
[The MUSICIANS seem to treat this as an
encouragement, for they play with more
vigour than ever ; then, as they reach the
climax, the music changes to slower strains,
in which some sort of air is recognisable,
and a troop of ORIENTAL DANCING GIRLS
come writhing and posturing in from
the arches on right and left of the centre
arch. HORACE recoils in horror, and
collapses on the divan by SYLVIA'S side.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Making her voice carry above the music.] And do
these young persons come from Earl's Court, too ?
HORACE.
Oh, dear no!
They come from
Entertainment Department,
[Wildly.] No!
from Harrod's. The
don't you know !
[He sits paralysed as the PRINCIPAL DANCING
GIRL suddenly floats down from the
central arch f and executes a slow and
sinuous Oriental dance in the middle of the
other performers. The PROFESSOR and his
THE BRASS BOTTLE 79
wife exchange scandalised comments, and
PRINGLE endeavours to look shocked and
HORACE.
[As the PRINCIPAL DANCING GIRL has glided down
opposite him, and stands posturing, with her eyes fixed
on his face ; to SYLVIA.] I I don't think she's bad.
SYLVIA.
[Coldly.] Don't you ? I'm perfectly sure she is !
HORACE.
No, no. She she's a lady and all that. They all
are. Highly respectable girls ! They only give their
dances at private parties.
SYLVIA.
I don't think you need have engaged them for
yours ! Really, Horace !
[The music stops; all, except the PRINCIPAL
DANCER, who remains standing and
smiling at HORACE, fall on their hands
and faces in a line across the stage.
HORACE.
It was a mistake. But I'll get rid of them ! [He
rises and goes towards the PRINCIPAL DANCER.] It's
charming charming but that will do, you know.
You can go away now. You can all of you go away !
[The PRINCIPAL DANCING GIRL, with a swift,
sudden movement, throws herself at his
feet and 'embraces his knees; SYLVIA
starts up indignantly. The PROFESSOR,
MRS. FUTVOYE, and PRINGLE rise also*
8o THE BRASS BOTTLE
PRINCIPAL DANCING GIRL.
[In Arabic, in a tone of adoring submission.] Yah
Sidi ! Yah noor ainy ! Yah nass al Kalbi Sidi !
HORACE.
[To the others.] She is a little hysterical, that's all
the artistic temperament. [As he succeeds in freeing
himself.] I don't know what on earth she's talking
about ! I fancy she says she's feeling seedy.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[ Who has come down on the right.] " Sidi " as you
may well know is the ordinary Arabic word for
" Master," and, if I follow her correctly, she is calling
you her Protector, the Light of her Eyes, and the
Vital Spirit of her Heart !
[The PRINCIPAL DANCING GIRL has fallen on
her hands and face in front of the others.
SYLVIA.
Oh ! So this is what you were trying to confess
to me!
HORACE.
She's quite mistaken, you know. Pm not the light
of her eyes, I've never seen her before in all my
life!
SYLVIA,
You think I believe that! [She rushes across to
MRS. FUTVOYE.] Oh, mother mother !
THE BRASS BOTTLE 81
HORACE.
Professor, you know Arabic. Couldn't you get
these people to understand that they aren't wanted ?
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Coming forward.] I intend to. [In Arabic.] Eerga
dugghery gowan ilia bait bettah Harrood !
[As he speaks all the dancing girls raise their
heads in horror, then rise screaming and
holding their hands to their ears, and
rush out through arches, followed by the
musicians. The moment they disappear
through the arches all is silent.
PRINGLE.
[Coming down to centre.] They weren't long in taking
your hint, Professor. What did you say to them ?
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[fiather puzzled.] I merely told them, in the best
Arabic I could command, to go back to Harrod's at
once.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
I am quite sure they cannot have come from
Harrod's !
HORACE.
You're perfectly right, Mrs. Futvoye. They didn't,
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Advancing to him.] After that admission, you will
hardly be surprised if I tell you as I do that you
82
THE BRASS BOTTLE
may consider your engagement to my daughter at an
may
end.
HORACE.
At an end ! Why, what have I done ?
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Done, sir, done? You ask that, after grossly in-
sulting my wife and daughter by this this outrageous
exhibition ! [He goes up, followed by PRINGLE.
HORACE.
[Going to MRS. FUTVOYE.] Mrs, Futvoye, you don't
misunderstand me, I'm sure ?
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Icily.] For once, I entirely agree with my hus-
band, and I believe Sylvia herself will tell you
[She turns, and joins the PROFESSOR on the
left.
HORACE.
No, she won't ? Will you, Sylvia ? You won't give
me up?
SYLVIA.
What else can I do ?
HORACE,
What else ? Why, trust me, stick to me in spite
of everything and everybody !
THE BRASS BOTTLE
SYLVIA.
After what I've just seen ! No, that's too much to
expect ! unless, of course, you've some satisfactory
explanation ?
HORACE.
Well, I have if you'll all promise to listen to it
you wouldn't when I tried to explain before, you
know. Now you must hear me out ! [They all pre-
pare to listen attentively.] It's like this. Sylvia wasn't
far wrong about that beastly jar I bought this after-
noon there was a Jinnee inside it.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE,
What ? How dare you, sir how dare
you trifle with us like this ?
All
speaking
together.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Disgraceful ! To stand there talking
such nonsense at such a time !
SYLVIA.
Turning it all into a joke 1 Oh, how
can you how can you ?
PRINGLE,
Upon my word, Ventimore, you ought
to be ashamed of yourself ! t
HORACE,'
There you are, you see! You won't give me a
hearing ! I ought to know what was inside the
84 THE BRASS BOTTLE
bottle, considering I let it out. Fakrash-el what
did he tell me his name was ? oh, Aamash Fakrash-
el-Aamash. He's a Jinnee. Of the Green Jinn.
PEINGLE.
Well, we're not Green Jennies !
HORACE.
[Losing his temper.] Shut up, Pringle ! This is my
story and you'll be good enough to let me finish it.
Well, according to old Fakrash, he'd been sealed up
in that bottle by Solomon
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
What, in the name of common sense, has all this
to do with the case ?
HORACE.
I'm coming to that, if you'll only have a little
patience. Naturally, he was grateful to me for
letting him out, and, in a weak moment, I I
blurted out that you were all coming to dinner here
to-night. And what does the old idiot do but trans-
form my rooms into these halls, and provide the
whole entertainment himself! And as might be
expected it was pretty rotten !
\He sinks on the divan on right in despair,
as he sees the general incredulity.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Ha ! And you seriously expect us to believe this
cock-and-bull story as an explanation unsupported
by any kind of proof ?
THE BRASS BOTTLE 85
HORACE,
Not unsupported. Professor ! How about these
halls?
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
They are only evidence of your unbridled extrava-
gance, sir ! . Where is this precious Jinnee you talk
about ? Produce him let me see him with my own
eyes, and I might but, bah ! you won't venture to
accept that challenge, I'm sure of that !
\He crosses to MRS, FUTVOYE and PRINGLE.
HORACE.
It's unfortunate but Fakrash has er left the
country. I don't expect him back for some time if
at all.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Nor I, sir, nor // Sophia, you and Sylvia had
better go to the vestibule and get your things on.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
I am only too anxious to go. [To SYLVIA.] Come,
darling. [She moves towards arch on right.
SYLVIA.
[In sudden alarm.] Mother ! Not with all those
horrid dancing-girls and things ! They're in there !
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[At arch.] Trust me to deal with them !
[She goes out with SYLVIA.
86 THE BRASS BOTTLE
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Going up and calling after them.] Make haste,
Sophia ! We must walk till we get a cab, that's
all!
HORACE.
[Who has risen.] Professor, don't go yet. I've
just remembered. If you'll only wait 'a moment, I
believe I can bring you something to prove I've
been telling the simple truth.
[Ne goes out by lower arch on right.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Approaching PRINGLE.] ** Prove he's been telling
the truth!" You heard that, Pringle ? Did you
ever hear such bare-faced impudence in all your
life?
PRINGLE.
Never, Professor, never ! I quite
share your indignation. Perhaps I may be allowed
to accompany you ? I am going your way.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Do so, Pringle ; do so, my dear fellow. As we
may have to walk some distance, my daughter will
be glad of your escort. [As MRS. FUTVOYE and SYLVIA
appear from arch up right.] Ah, they're ready, I see.
Go and get your coat on and bring mine, and we'll
leave at once.
PRINGLE.
[With alacrity, as he goes up.] By all means, Pro-
fessor ! I won't be a minute.
[He goes out by the arch up right.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 87
HORACE.
[Returning at the same moment from lower arch on
right.] I've had a hunt but I've found it. [He offers
a metal cap to the PEOFESSOR.] Now, if you'll only
examine this, Professor.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
What do you mean by offering me that piece of
dirty old metal, sir ? Take the thing away !
HORACE.
It's the cap or stopper that belongs to that brass
bottle. And, I don't know, but I rather fancy there's
something engraved on it.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Eh, what? [He takes the cap.} So far as I can tell
by feeling it, there does seem to be but what if
there is what if there is ?
HORACE.
Well, it might refer to a Jinnee having been
bottled up by Solomon, don't you know.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Bah ! but no matter. [He slips the cap into his
tail-coat pocket.] Whatever it is, I will examine this
inscription after breakfast to-morrow morning.
[Triumphantly] And I shall decipher it, sir, you
may depend upon that ! [To PRINGLE, who returns
with coat and helps him into it.] Thank you, my boy,
thank you. Now, Sophia, if you are ready !
88
THE BRASS BOTTLE
MRS. FUTVOYE.
I am only waiting for you, Anthony. [Frostily, to
HORACE.] Mr. Ventimore, I will wish you good-night.
[She goes out by central arch.
PRINGLE.
{Approaching SYLVIA.] Good-night, Ventimore.
Miss Sylvia [offering his arm] I am to have the
privilege of taking care of you.
SYLVIA.
[Declining his arm.] Thank you, Mr. Pringle,
but I can quite well take care of myself. [SJie turns to
HORACE.] Horace, I want to say just this before 1 go
I will trust you still, in spite of everything and
everybody !
HORACE.
[Putting his arm round her.] You little brick !
And you won't have to go on trusting me much
longer !
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Interposing and separating them.] That she will
not, sir ! Let her go ! [HORACE releases SYLVIA,
who goes up towards central aroh, HORACE attempting
to follow her, when he is stopped by the PROFESSOR.]
Stay where you are !
[SYLVIA and PRINGLE pass through to the
outer hall.
HORACE.
Surely I may go as far as the door with her !
THE BRASS BOTTLE 89
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[By the central arch.] Not another step, sir ! One
last word. This precious seal of yours will enable
me to expose you as a shameless liar. That is all I
have to say. Good evening.
[He goes out. Pause, the front door is heard
to slam.
HORACE.
[To himself, in despair.] Gone ! She's gone ! [He
flings himself down on the divan on the left y with his
face to the audience.] The Professor may be right
the seal mayrit be Solomon's ! How do / know old
Fakrash hasn't been lying ? And if he has well, I'm
done for ! [FAKRASH suddenly appears through the
hangings, comes down to the divan, and touches
HORACE on the shoulder ; HORACE starts, then swings
round to a sitting posture, facing FAKRASH.] Eh ? So
you have come back !
FAKRASH.
[Benevolently.] May thy head long survive !
HORACE.
[Choking with rage.] If you'd only turned up four
minutes earlier I could have introduced you to my
guests. It's too late now !
FAKRASH.
Thou hast dismissed them already ?
90 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
They've gone, anyhow.
FAKRASH.
[beaming.] And were they not astounded by the
magnificence of thy dwelling and the liberality of
their entertainment ?
HORACE.
Distinctly so. But I warn you don't you press
me on the subject of that entertainment. I can't
trust myself to talk about it just yet.
FAKRASH.
Render me no thanks.
HORACE.
[Exasperated.] Thanks! Thanks!!
FAKRASH.
I perceive that something hath displeased thee.
HORACE.
[With an angry laugh.] No, do you ? You're
getting quite observant ! Something jolly well has
displeased me. Not so much the banquet I could
pass that we did pass most of it ! [Rising.] It was
what came after the banquet !
THE BRASS BOTTLE 91
FAKEASH.
After the banquet I provided that a company of
houris, lovelier than the full moon and graceful as
young gazelles, should dance for the delight of thy
guests. [With uneasiness.] Can I have failed in bring-
ing this to pass ?
HORACE.
[Bitterly.] Oh, you brought that off all right the
houris came! [With rising resentment.] And what do
you think the Chief Gazelle did ? . . . Hugged my
knees and called me her lord and protector and the
light of her eyes ! Pretty good that for a gazelle !
FAKEASH.
[With a fatuous smile of approval.] Excellent
indeed !
HOEACE.
[Turning on him.] Perhaps, when I tell you that
the company included the young lady I was engaged
to marry and her father and mother, and that they
put the most unfavourable construction on the houri's
behaviour, it may begin to dawn, even on you, that
you might have been more tactful ! I've lost Sylvia
now and all through you and your confounded
gazelle !
FAKEASH.
[Pulling his beard, and appearing slightly dis-
concerted] Yerily thy fortune is unlucky ! But dis-
miss uneasiness, for to remedy this mischance will be
the simplest thing possible.
THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
[More mildly.] Oh, if you'll do that ! But how ?
FAKRASH.
[Standing in centre of hall.] By procuring thee
another bride of far greater beauty and accomplish-
ments.
HORACE.
[Striding past him in a fury] Another ! You you
hopeless old ass ! Can't you understand ?
FAKRASH. "
[Seizing his arm, and bringing him down the stage]
Wait ! Thou hast not yet heard the list of her per-
fections. A forehead shall she have like the gleaming
dome of a temple, eyes like unto blazing lamps, a nose
that shineth brighter than a sword, teeth resembling
pearls strung on native gold, a bosom
HORACE.
Stop, I tell you ! I don't want her I won't have
her ! I want Sylvia, and I'll marry nobody else !
Just get that into your muddled old head, will you !
If you can't pull me out of this mess you've got me
into, why the deuce have you come back at all ?
[ffe sits on the divan on left.
FAKRASH.
I am returned to impart unto thee wondrous
intelligence.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 93
HORACE.
Oh ? Well, fire away. Take a cushion.
[Flinging him one from the divan.
FAKEASH.
[/Squatting on cushion.] Hearken ! During my
wanderings I have learnt that, beyond all doubt,
Suleyman, the son of Daood, sleeps with his fathers!
HORACE.
As a matter of fact, he's been doing that for about
three thousand years.
FAKRASH.
Sayest thou so? Then [cunningly] tell me.
Doth there still remain any one of Suley man's seed
that exerciseth his authority over them of the Jinn ?
HORACE.
No. As soon as you've made things right for me,
you can go off to your own country and settle down
comfortably there's no power on earth that can
interfere with you.
FAKRASH.
Then before I do thee any further service bring
hither the stopper wherewith my bottle was sealed.
HORACE.
[Uneasily.] The the stopper ? Oh, nonsense !
You can't want that now ! What for ? As a
souvenir ?
94
THE BRASS BOTTLE
FAKRASH.
Nay, but because in all likelihood it is engraven
with the mighty seal of Suleyman.
HORACE.
[Rising excitedly.] I say ! Are you sure of that ?
FAKRASH.
So it was customary with such vessels. And,
bearing such a seal, I shall possess a mighty talis-
man. [Rising from his cushion.] Wherefore deliver
it into my hands without delay, and I will reward
thee by accomplishing all thy desires.
HORACE.
[In extreme embarrassment.]
happy to oblige you if I could.
is, I've just parted with it.
I I'd be only too
But well, the fact
FAKRASH.
[Advancing on him in sudden fury.] Parted with
it! With my seal! O thou of little sense! To
whom ? To whom, I say ?
HORACE,
To the father of the lady I was engaged to. He's
a learned man, you see, and I knew, if there was
anything engraved on the seal, he'd be able to make
it out.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 95
FAKEASH,
[Striding up and down the hall, and brandishing
his arms.] Perdition seize thee! For he will as-
suredly refuse to surrender such a talisman ! Woe
to me, for I am undone ! Undone ! Undone !
HORACE.
Don't talk rot ! You aren't undone and nobody
wants to undo you ! [FAKEASH utters wild cries.]
Don't go howling about like that sit down again
and be sensible.
FAKEASH.
[Halting opposite HOEACE, with a menacing gesture.]
Take heed to thyself ! For if thou dost not restore
my seal immediately !
HOEACE.
[Facing him composedly.] It's no good trying to
bully me, you know. I'm not afraid of you. You
sit down and be civil, and promise to do exactly as I
tell you or I'm hanged if I help you to get your
seal back.
FAKEASH.
[With sudden self-restraint.] My son, it was
naught ! Am I not thy servant ? On the head and
eye be all thy commands !
[Re sits down on the cushion.
HOEACE.
Ah, that's better ! [He goes to the divan and gets
himself a cushion, then sits facing FAKEASH.] Now I'll
9 6
THE BRASS BOTTLE
tell you an idea that's just struck me the Professor
said himself that nothing would convince him but
seeing you with his own eyes. Well why shouldn't
you go to him ?
FAKEASH.
[Eagerly.} Tell me where he hath his abode, and I
will visit him this same instant. [About to rise.
HOEACE.
[Stopping him.] No, you don't ! Just when he'll be
turning in ! You'll go about ten o'clock to-morrow
morning, when he's had his breakfast or you won't
go at all !
FAKEASH.
Be it so ! I will restrain my impatience until the
morrow. But the place of his dwelling ?
HOEACE.
Wait a bit. I won't have him rattled. [FAKEASH
looks puzzled.] I mean, no popping up through the
floor or down the chimney. You'll just walk quietly
up to his front door, and ask to see him. Then you
can explain who you are and what you want, and, if
you're decently polite, I'm sure the Professor will
give you back your property.
FAKEASH.
All these instructions will I observe.
HOEACE.
But you can't go in that get-up, or you'll have a
crowd of small boys at your heels. Couldn't you raise
THE BRASS BOTTLE 97
the sort of costume respectable elderly gentlemen go
about in nowadays ?
FAKRASH.
I hear and obey. To assume such garb as is worn
by aged dwellers in this city will be the simplest
affair possible !
HORACE.
All right, then. And you must go to No. 47
Cottesmore Gardens, Kensington, and ask whoever
lets you in if you may see Professor Futvoye. Think
you can remember all that ?
FAKRASH.
[Rising.] Indelibly is it inscribed upon the tablet
of memory. To-morrow, then, at the appointed hour,
will I repair to the abode of this sage.
HORACE.
[Who has risen at the same time as FAKRASH, and
thrown the cushions back on the divan.] Good ! And
you'd better come on to me afterwards and let me
know how you got on. Not here at my office,
Great College Street, Westminster.* Got that down
on your tablet ?
FAKRASH.
It is done. And now, young man of abundant
talents and obliging disposition, 1 will take my leave
of thee. [Going to centre of hall.] For I must seek
my Palace in the Garden of Irem and repose myself
o
98 THE BRASS BOTTLE
until it be day. But [turning] ere I depart, tell
me by what service I can reward thy kindness ?
HORACE.
Well, if you really want to do me a good turn,
you might change these halls again.
FAKRASH.
What ? Are they insufficient for thy dignity ?
HORACE.
No, no they're much too grand ! I I want my
old rooms back !
FAKRASH.
[Pained.] Of what avail is it to confer favours
upon thee, since thou rejectest them every one !
HORACE.
[Approaching him, and speaking soothingly] No,
not every one. There was old Wackerbath the
client you sent me I haven't rejected him. I'm
going to build him a country-house.
FAKRASH.
Ha! And on what spot is this mansion to be
erected ?
HORACE.
Oh, he seems to have got an excellent site on a
hill near Lipsfield, between Hampshire and Surrey.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 99
FAKRASH .
[Touching his own broivJ] It is on the tablet!
And have no anxiety, for the palace that will arise
shall assuredly be the wonder of the universe !
HORACE.
Very kind of you to say so when I haven't even
begun to work at it yet. And now about these
halls? [Persuasively.] You will turn 'em back into
my old rooms, won't you? You're such a deuced
clever old Johnny I mean, Jinnee !
FAKRASH.
Into the mean habitation in which I found thee ?
Far be this action from me !
HORACE.
[Impatiently.] Ob, I'm sick of arguing with you
I command you. On the head and on the eye !
RAPKIN'S VOICE.
[From the outer hall,] Mr. Ventimore ! I want a
word with you !
HORACE.
[To FAKRASH, quickly.] You hear? That's my
landlord, it's his house, not mine. Just you change
it quick before he comes in !
FAKRASH.
[Standing in centre.] Since thou insisteth. And be
TOO THE BRASS BOTTLE
of light heart, for by to-morrow all thine affairs will
prosper exceedingly !
[He waves his hand; there is a sudden and
complete darkness for a few seconds, with
the sounds of rumbling and rushing wind
as before. Above this the RAPKINS* voices
are heard.
RAPKIN'S VOICE.
Turned off the lights, 'as he ? But Pll talk to 'im
when I see 'im !
MRS. RAPKIN'S VOICE.
Don't let go of my 'and, Rapkin ! I know there's
some o' them nasty niggers about !
RAPKIN'S VOICE.
'Im and his bloomin' niggers and Arabian 'alls !
[Bawling} Mr. Ventimore ! You 'ear me !
[The stage has been growing gradually lighter ,
and MR. and MRS. RAPKIN are seen
standing together in the room in which
the play opened.
HORACE.
[Appearing at bedroom door on right, in smoking
suit, holding candle.} Perfectly. [Blandly.} Anything
the matter, Rapkin ?
RAPKIN.
\Looking round open-mouthed, and blinking in
THE BRASS BOTTLE 101
bewilderment.] Matter, sir ? No, sir. Nothink, sir.
Not now, sir !
HORACE.
[Sweetly.} Glad to hear it. You'll be all right in
the morning. Hot water at the usual time, please.
Good night !
[He goes into his bedroom, leaving the stage
in darkness again as the curtain falls.
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
THE THIRD ACT
SCENE I
The scene represents HORACE'S office in Great College
Street.
It is a small room, panelled in dark oak. On the left
is an old mantelpiece in white and yellow marble.
Beyond the fireplace is a door communicating with
PRINGLE'S office. On the right is a recessed
window, through which the top of an old grey wall
with chevaux-de-frise and foliage above can be
seen. At the back, on the right, is a door leading
to the staircase. On the left of this door, an archi-
tect's cabinet , with narrow drawers for plans, &c.
On the walls are plans and architectural drawings,
a T square or two, an office calendar, and sections
of mouldings, sundry cards of tiling, ornamental
fittings, (Sec., sent out by firms as advertisements to
architects. On the right, by the window, is an
architect's drawing-table, with a sheet of drawing-
paper, tracing-paper, saucers of colour, and other
usual requisites of an architect.
The time is 11.30 on the morning after the preceding acts.
As the curtain rises, the Westminster Clock-tower chimes
the half-hour.
HORACE is drawing at the table on right.
103
104 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
[To himself, looking at watch.] Half -past eleven
already! and I haven't heard from either of them
yet! [With some anxiety.] Very odd! Can anything
have ? [There is a knock at the door on the left.
HORACE turns with a slight start as PRINGLE enters.]
Oh, it's you, Pringle! [After a pause."] None the
worse after last night, I hope ?
PRINGLE.
[Very solemnly.] I am feeling no ill-effects at
present. [Coming to centre of room.] Can I have a few
words with you ?
HORACE.
[Going on designing] Well, only a very few. We
may be interrupted at any moment. I've appoint-
ments with two people this morning. Looks as if
they'd both overslept themselves.
PRINGLE.
[Gravely, as he plants himself with his back to the
fireplace.] I shall not detain you long. I merely
wish to explain my position. When I accepted your
invitation last night, I did so with the loyal inten-
tion of resigning myself, as cheerfully as possible, to
your engagement to Miss Futvoye
HORACE.
[Wheeling his chair round so as to /ace him.] Instead
of which you put a spoke in my wheel whenever
THE BRASS BOTTLE 105
you got the chance ! Not behaving quite decently,
was it ?
PRINGLE.
[Stiffly.] After last night, I cannot consider you as
an authority on decency.
HORACE.
Don't rub it in, Pringle !
PRINGLE.
As I was saying, I came prepared to leave the field
to you for I arn not the sort of man to unsettle
any girl's affections
HORACE.
That's your modesty, Pringle ! You don't realise
how dangerous you are !
PRINGLE.
[Ignoring this.] I was going to say so long as she
continues engaged to another. But if Miss Sylvia
doesn't recognise yet that you are utterly unworthy
of her, she very soon will. Then my chance will
come and I've every intention of taking it.
HORACE.
Sorry to discourage you, my dear Pringle but
your chance hasn't come yet, and it's not over likely
to come at all. [He turns to his work again.
io6 THE BRASS BOTTLE
PRINGLE
She'll never marry you without her father's con-
sent and if you'd heard him last night in the
cab !
HORACE
[Easily.'] I daresay. But he'll be very different
this morning.
PRINGLE.
[Who has come nearer to him.] Why, you're not
trusting to that trumpery seal of yours to convince
him?
HORACF.
No. I'm trusting to something or rather some-
body [turning to him] who will be more convincing
than any seal.
PRINGLF.
It will take a good deal to reconcile him, or any of
them, to such an extremely er Oriental interior as
you rejoice in.
HORACE.
The Oriental interior has gonr, Pr ingle, vanished
into space !
PRINGLE.
Nonsense! How could solidly constructed halls
like those vanish in a night ?
HORACE.
I don't pretend to know how but they have, and
that's enough for me ! [He returns to his drawing.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 107
PRINGLE*
[Going back to fireplace.] And this client of yours
has he vanished, too ?
HORACE.
Old Wackerbath ? Oh, no ; he's much too solid to
vanish he's only a trifle late !
PRINGLE.
I shouldn't make too sure of him,
HORACE.
[Listening.] I fancy he's coming upstairs now.
[Rises and goes to door at back, then stops with a
sudden recollection.] Unless it's the other one !
PRINGLE.
The other one'? So you've two clients !
HORACE.
No, only one. The other isn't a client. [Half to
himself, as he comes down.] Awkward if they happened
to meet ! I never thought of that ! [There is a loud
knock at the door to staircase] Well, here's one of
'em, anyhow ! Come in ! [MR. WACKERBATH opms the
door, and stands on the threshold^ breathing hard t and
purple and speechless with rage. HORACE goes towards
him] It is Mr. Wackerbath ! How do you do ?
[Pleasantly.] I was beginning to be afraid [He
notices MR. WACKERBATH'S expression.] Eh? Has
anything happened ?
io8 THE BRASS BOTTLE
MR. WACKERBATH.
Happened, sir ? Yes, something has happened !
Which you'll be good enough to explain if you can I
HORACE.
Oh ? [Turning to PRINGLE.] Perhaps, Pringle, if
you wouldn't mind ?
PRINGLE.
[Moving to the door on the left.] Oh, by all means !
MR. WACKERBATH.
[To PRINGLE.] Stop, sir! Don't you run away!
For all / know, you may have had a hand in this
disgraceful business !
PRINGLE.
[With dignity.] I occupy the adjoining office, sir,
and I am in practice as an architect. But I have
no business connection with Mr. Yentimore none
whatever. [Offering to go.
MR. WACKERBATH.
You will oblige me by staying. I should like your
opinion as an architect on the way I've been
treated.
[He puts down his hat on the cabinet by the
door,
PRINGLE.
Oh, if Mr Ventimore has no objection
THE BRASS BOTTLE 109
HORACE.
Well oh, stay if you think proper. [To MR.
WACKERBATH, offering armchair on left of table.]
Now, sir; if you'll sit down and compose your-
self
MR, WACKERBATH.
I will not sit down, sir, and I find it difficult to
compose myself. You know very well why !
HORACE,
I don't, indeed. Unless unless you've discovered
the the means by which you were induced to come
to me yesterday. But, after all, there's no great
harm done.
MR. WACKERBATH.
[Bursting with rage.] No great harm ! You can
stand there and tell me that !
HORACE.
[Calmly.] Certainly. If you prefer to go to some
other architect, you're perfectly free to do so.
MR. WACKERBATH.
[Frantically.] Free ! Free ! ! When the damned
house is built !
HORACE AND PRINGLE.
\Together, each starting back] Built ?
no
THE BRASS BOTTLE
MR. WACKERBATH.
Built, sir, built ! When my wife and I saw it
on our way to the station this morning, we could
hardly believe our eyes. But my coachman who's
not given to imagination saw it as plain as we did.
[HORACE hears all this with stupefaction at first, and
then with growing comprehension.] And, considering I
only gave you the commission yesterday afternoon, I
should like to know how the devil you managed to
put up such a place in the time ?
PRINGLE.
My dear sir, as a professional man, let me assure
you it would be impossible quite impossible. It
must have been due to some effect of mirage.
MR. WACKERBATH.
Mirage, indeed ! We got out of the carriage and
climbed the slope and went all over the building !
Are you going to tell me we've been all over a
mirage ?
HORACE.
[Half to himself.] Oh, the blithering old idiot !
MR. WACKERBATH.
[Turning on him suddenly] Are you addressing
we, sir ?
HORACE.
No, no; not you ! Of course not. [With a groan.]
THE BRASS BOTTLE in
I told him, like a fool, where the site was and he's
done the rest during the night !
[The door at the back flies open, and FAKRASH
appears. He is wearing a very tall hat
with a wide flat brim, a frock-coat, baggy
shepherd's plaid trousers fitting tightly over
his ankles, and Oriental shoes.
FAKRASH.
Greeting to ye, O company !
[MR. WACKERBATH and PRINGLE turn in
surprise.
HORACE.
[Sinking helplessly into his chair ; half to himself.]
It's with you, partner ! [In an undertone to FAKRASH.]
Take off your hat !
[FAKRASH removes his tall hat with both
hands, and places it on the top of MR.
WACKERBATH'S hat. MR. WACKERBATH,
annoyed, goes to cabinet and removes his
own hat.
FAKRASH.
[To MR. WACKERBATH.] If I mistake not, thou art
the wealthy merchant for whom this my son hath
undertaken to erect a mansion ?
MR. WACKERBATH.
I am, sir. And you, I presume, are Mr. Venti-
more, senior ?
112 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
No, he isn't he's no relation of mine !
FAKRASH.
[To MR. WACKERBATH, proudly.'] Is he not an
architect of divine skill, and hath he not built thee a
palace that might cause even the gall of a Sultan to
burst with envy ?
MR. WACKERBATH.
It very nearly made me burst, sir, I can tell you
that!
FAKRASH.
I marvel not, for verily it is a lordly dwelling for
such as thou,
MR. WACKERBATH.
" Lordly ! " You can call it what you like. / call
it a torn-fool cross between the Brighton Pavilion and
the Palm-house at Kew ! No billiard-room and not
a sign of any drainage system ! And you have the
brass the the unblushing effrontery to expect me
to accept it as a first-class country-house with every
modern convenience !
PRINGLE.
I must say that, in all my professional experience,
I never
HORACE.
[Rising and approaching MR. WACKERBATH.] I'd
better explain, Mr. Wackerbath. It seems that my
THE BRASS BOTTLE 113
old 3r friend here has, with the mistaken notion
that he was helping me, built this palace for you
himself. I haven't seen it but, from what I know
of his talents in that line, it can't be half a bad sort
of place in its way. And, anyhow, I shouldn't
dream of making any charge under the circumstances.
We make you a present of it perhaps you didn't
understand that ? So, surely you will accept it in the
the spirit in which it was intended, what ?
MR. WACKERBATH.
Accept it ! See the finest position in the neighbour-
hood occupied by a jerry-built Moorish nightmare?
Be the laughing-stock of the whole county ? They'd
call it " Wacker bath's Folly " ! I won't have it on
my land a day longer than I can help ! I'll go to law,
sir, and compel you and your officious partner here to
pull the thing down ! I I'll fight the case as long
as I can stand !
FAKRASH.
[ Who has been regarding him through this speech with
glowering eyes.] " As long as thoii canst stand " ? That
will be for no long period, thou litigious one ! \He
points at him with his forefinger.] On all fours [MR.
WACKERBATH starts in speechless indignation, and bends
slightly forward] thankless dog that thou art, and
crawl henceforth for the remainder of thy days!
MR. WACKERBATH.
How dare you address me in that way, sir ! How
[He suddenly drops forward on his hands.] I will not
go down on all fours ! Do you hear, sir ? I will not !
U4 THE BRASS BOTTLE
PKINGLE
[Horrified] But Great Heavens, sir, you are on
all fours !
HORACE.
[Seizing FAKRASH'S ami.] Now, Fakrash just you
stop this !
FAKRASH.
[Shaking HORACE off.} Let me be! [To MR.
WACKERBATH.] Begone, O contemptible of aspect!
To thy kennel !
MR. WACKERBATH.
[Almost whining, as he crawls distractedly about on
all fours.] I can't ! I won't ! I cant cross West-
minster Bridge like this ! What will the officials think
at Waterloo, where I've been known and respected
for years ? How am I to face my wife and family in
in my present position ? I insist on getting up !
PRINGLE.
Then, my dear sir, why don't you ? Why humour
him ?
MR. WACKERBATH,
Why, why? Because I can't help myself! Damn
it, sir, do you suppose I'm doing this for my own
amusement? [To FAKRASH.] Here, turn off your will-
power, or whatever it is, and let me up ! Do let
me up !
HORACE.
[In disgust^ 1*11 not have it, Fakrash ! Let him
up at once !
THE BRASS BOTTLE 115
FAKRASH.
Far be this action from me ! This son of a burnt
dog hath dared to disdain a palace therefore let his
abode be in the dust for evermore !
ME. WACKERBATH.
[Crawling to HOEACE.] You you quite misunder-
stood me I haven't a word to say against the palace.
It's the very place I wanted ! [Crawling up to
FAKEASH.] If it' you'll only let me up, I I'll live
in it 'pon my honour I will !
HOEACE.
[With authority, to FAKEASH.] Let this unfortunate
gentleman up, will you ! I command you. Both on
the head and eye !
FAKEASH.
[Sullenly, to HOEACE.] But for the magnitude of
thy services ! Be it as thou wilt. [He extends
his arm over ME. WACKEEBATH.] Rise ! [ME. WACKER-
BATH rises and drops into chair by table, exhausted.]
Depart, and show us the breadth of thy shoulders.
[Ms. WACKEEBATH gets up, puffing, and
backs to the door.
HORACE.
[Going towards him with concern.] My dear sir,
you must believe I've had no share in this! T 1
really don't know how to apologise
u6 THE BRASS BOTTLE
Mu WACKERBATH.
[With his eyes on FAKRASH.] Don't mention it, sir,
pray don't mention it. I am perfectly satisfied
perfectly !
HORACE.
You shall be, very soon. Fakrash, clear that
palace away at once. Sharp, now !
MR. WACKERBATH.
[Nervously, to FAKRASH.] No, no, I couldn't think
of troubling you. I I couldn't wish for a more
delightful residential mansion, I assure you !
HORACE.
[Coming to FAKRASH.] I've told you to obliterate
that palace, Fakrash. Am I to tell you twice ?
FAKRASH.
Hath not this overfed father of dogs [MR.
WACKERBATH starts, but controls his resentment
immediately] expressed his satisfaction with it ?
HORACE.
It won't do, Fakrash ! Do as you're told and be
quick about it.
FAKRASH.
Verily such a palace would but be defiled by his
presence therefore let it be annihilated. [He stalks
to the windoiv, which flies open at a tvave of his hand,
THE BRASS BOTTLE n 7
after which he faces it and mutters an incantation^
Pfpht ! [All start.] It is accomplished. Of the palace
and all the splendours therein there remaineth not a
trace !
HORACE.
[Going up to MR. WACKERBATH.] Mr. Wackerbath,
you will find on your return that that is so. I've
only to apologise once more for all the er incon-
venience you've been put to.
MR. WACKERBATH,
[Near the door.] Not at all not at all, I assure
you. [Turning to FAKRASH.] I haven't quite caught
your name, my dear sir, but you must allow me to
thank you for the ah very handsome manner in
which you have met me.
FAKRASH,
[With a menacing movement.] Begone, I say! [MR.
WACKERBATH snatches his hat from cabinet.] Or thou
mayst find thyself in some yet more unfortunate
predicament.
MR. WACKERBATH.
[At the door.] Quite so quite so ! Er delightful
weather, isn't it? [Opening door.] Good morning,
gentlemen. [FAKRASH makes another movement.] Good
morning. \He goes out hurriedly.
[FAKRASH turns to the window and stands
there with folded arms, looking out in
sombre abstraction. PRINGLE and HOEACE
are on the other side of the room.
ii8 THE BRASS BOTTLE
PRINGLE.
[Going towards the door to his office, and lowering
his voice.] I don't think you'll see any more of Mr.
Wackerbath after this.
HORACE,
[In an undertone.] No, I've lost him thanks to
that old busybody over there. He's done my
business !
PRINGLF.
It serves you right for having him about. Where
on earth did you pick him up? Who is he?
HORACE.
Surely you don't need to be told ! Why, he's the
old Jinnee who was inside the bottle.
PRINGLE.
Rats ! excuse the vulgarity !
HORACE.
Hang it ! You must have noticed something queer
about him !
PRINGLE.
I have and if he's the person you're relying
on to remove the Professor's objections, I think
the old gentleman should be warned against seeing
himj
[He goes into his office and shuts the door ;
THE BRASS BOTTLE 119
HORACE returns to table, takes up the
sheet on which he had been working,
crumples it up, and /lings it away.
FAKRASH.
[Turns from window to HORACE.] Receive news !
Henceforth I shall cease to busy myself about thine
afiairs.
HORACE.
[Sardonically.] That's the best news I've heard from
you so far.
FAKRASH.
[Gloomily.] Uneasiness hath entered into my heart
and I am sore troubled.
HORACE.
So you ought to be after your latest performance.
I suppose you know you've wrecked my chances as an
architect? But never mind that now have you
found time to look up the Professor yet ?
FAKRASH.
I have but lately parted from him.
[He comes to fireplace.
HORACE.
And you went to Cottesmore Gardens in that kit ?
[Amused in spite of himself] If you could only see
yourself !
120 THE BRASS BOTTLE
FAKRASH.
Didst thou not order me to assume such apparel as
is worn in this city ?
HORACE.
I didn't say on the 5th of November ! However,
you saw him. Did you get your seal back ?
FAKRASH.
Nay, for the sage protested that he had mislaid it !
HORACE.
Oh, well, never mind it'll turn up in time. What
I" 'really want to know is whether you convinced him
that you'd come out of the brass bottle ?
FAKRASH.
[Sombrely.] As to that I can tell thee naught.
On hearing that I came from thee, he reviled me as
a person of no reputation, and threatened to summon
a certain constable and have me delivered into custody.
Whereupon I took measures [he smiles cunningly]
to ensure his silence.
HORACE.
[Falling back in his chair in sudden terror.] His
silence! You you old devil! You you've not
killed him !
FAKRASH.
Nay, nay, I have not so much as harmed a hair of
his head.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 121
HOEACE.
Phew ! What a fright you gave me !
[Moving towards fireplace, then turning^] But you've
been up to some devilry or other I'm sure of it.
What have you done to him ? Out with it !
FAKRASH
[Going up towards door.] It was necessary for my
security to [at door] transform him into a one-eyed
mule.
HORACE.
[Petrified with horror.] A one-eyed what !
FAKRASH.
[Walks through the door, then turns, remaining visible
through the door panels.] A one-eyed mule of hideous
appearance. Farewell to thee.
[He disappears ; HORACE seizes his hat and
rushes madly out as the curtain falls.
END OF THE FIRST SCENE OF THE THIRD ACT.
122 THE BRASS BOTTLE
SCENE II
The scene represents the drawing-room at 47 Cottesmore
Gardens, Kensington.
It is a pleasant room, tastefully furnished. On the left
a recessed fireplace, in which are ferns ; on the
mantelpiece are some large blue and white beakers
and vases. On the right a bay-window and window-
seat. The windows are wide open, showing win-
dow-boxes filled with scarlet geraniums and mar-
guerites, and a quiet street with detached houses.
At the back, on the right, is a door opening on the
hall. To the left of this door are sliJ ing-doors
shutting off the PROFESSOR'S study. In front of
the^e sliding-doors is a long high- backed sofa,
completely covered in chintz, the flounce of which
touches the floor. At the rising of the curtain
these doors are closed. Behind them are curtains.
Near the fireplace are an armchair and a small
table. Against the wall, below the fireplace, is a
cabinet. Between the sliding-doors and the door to
the hall is another cabinet with door, which, when
opened, shows shelves filled with ancient pottery.
Above the bay-window is a bureau. Below it are
a sofa and a small table.
As the curtain rises MRS. FUTVOYE is seen seated in
chair by the fireplace, trying to do some embroidery,
though her thoughts are evidently elsewhere. From
THE BRASS BOTTLE 123
behind the sliding-doors proceed sounds as of some
animal kicking and plunging.
SYLVIA'S voice is then heard crying : " Father, please
don't ! " [A s^lccession of dull thuds as of battering
hcofs.] " Ob, do take care ! "
MES. FUIVOYE.
[Lays down her work, rises, goes to the sliding-doors,
and knocks.] Anthony ! Don't go on like that, for
goodness' sake ! You must try and control yourself !
Just think, if the servants heard you ! [JESSIE, a neat
parlour-maid in morning costume, pink print, cap,
and apron, enters from hall ; MRS. FUTVOYE hurriedly
leaves the sofa by the sliding-doors, goes back to her
chair, and takes up her work with an elaborate assump-
tion of perfect calm.] What is it, Jessie ? I haven't
rung.
JESSIE,
I know, madam. But there's such a noise in the
master's study I was afraid something had happened.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Severely] Then it was very foolish of you. What
should have happened? If you heard anything, it
probably came from next door.
[/Sounds of stamping from within sliding-
doors, and then a noise as if some piece
of furniture had been overturned.
JESSIE.
There it is again, madam ! And it does seem to
come from the study !
[Sounds as before, rather louder.
I2 4 THE BRASS BOTTLE
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Oh, that ? That's nothing, nothing ! The Professor
is merely shifting some of the furniture.
JESSIE.
[Evidently devoured by curiosity.] Won't he find it
too much for him, madam ? Perhaps I might be able
to help.
[She makes a movement towards the sliding-doors.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
You're not to go in there ! You know your master
allows nobody to touch his things. I can't have him
disturbed.
[More stamping and banging then a crash
of broken glass.
JESSIE,
He seems to be disturbing of himself, madam
just had an accident with something. Hadn't I
better go in and clear it up ?
[She again makes a movement towards the
MRS. FUTVOYE,
Certainly not ! Leave the room and attend to your
work. [The front -door bell rings J] Good gracious ! the
visitors' bell! Jessie, I'm not at home! Nobody is at
home ! Whoever it is, mind !
THE BRASS BOTTLE 125
JESSIE.
has gone to the door leading to the hall
and opened it, turns to MRS. FUTVOYE.] I forgot to
mention it, madam, but after that foreign gen-
tleman called to see the master this morning, I found
there's something wrong with the catch of the front
door leastways, I can't get it to shut, do what I
will.
[PRINGLE comes in through the door which
JESSIE is holding open.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Rises and makes a step forward.] Mr. Pringle !
You can igo, Jessie.
[JESSIE goes out with an air of baffled
curiosity.
PRINGLE.
[Shaking hands with MRS. FUTVOYE.] Pray ex-
cuse my coming in unannounced but it's rather
urgent.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
How do you do, Mr. Pringle ? [Indicating the sofa
below the window t \ Do sit down.
PRINGLE.
I feel reassured already. I had a dreadful appre-
hension that I might come too late.
126 THE BRASS BOTTLE
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[With a pathetic attempt to maintain appearances.]
Half past twelve is surely quite early enough. Not
that I am anything but delighted to see you, at any
time.
PEINGLE.
You are very kind, [ffe sits down.] But to be
quite frank I called to see the Professor. Could I
have a word or two with him at once ?
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[ Who has taken d chair near the sofa.] I'm so sorry
but that/s reaHy impossible just now.
PRINGLE.
Indeed? I trust he is not unwell after last
night ?
MRS. FUTVOYE.
N not unwell exactly. But not quite his usual
self.
[More noise from study, and SYLVIA'S voice
heard exclaiming : " Papa ! Papa ! "
PRINGLE.
[Looking round.] He seems to be in his study,
and I thought I heard Miss Sylvia's voice.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
e he's particularly busy this morning.
[Increased noise.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 127
PRINGLE,
[Puzzled.] So it appears. But [rising]-! wouldn't
interrupt him for long, and it really is most important.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Rising in agitation.] I do assure you he can see
nobody at present.
[She seats herself, persuading him to sit down
also*
PRINGLE.
But, Mrs. Futvoye, if you knew what I have
discovered !
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Rising again.] Discovered !
PRINGLE.
About Yentimore. I want to put the Professor
on his guard against receiving any er emissary
from him.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Slightly relieved] Oh, he's not likely to do that
he has much more important matters to think about !
[ The noise is renewed ; stamping, plunging,
overturned chairs.
PRINGLE,
Just so. Then if I might speak to Miss Sylvia ?
128 THE BRASS BOTTLE
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Hastily,'] She is very busy too, helping my
husband. [Here the noise reaches its finale in a
resounding crash and clatter of falling furniture ami
shivered glass ; MRS. FUTVOYE proceeds without appear-
ing to have noticed it] He he sometimes makes use
of her as as his amanuensis.
[The sliding-doors are suddenly run back,
and SYLVIA appears. She does not see
PRINGLE, who has risen and moved to the
right, from which position he can see into
the study. MRS. FUTVOYE makes a
movement towards her to check any dis-
closures.
SYLVIA.
[In despair.] Oh, Mother ! Mother ! You must
come to father ! He's kicking worse than ever, and
I can't manage him any longer !
PRINGLE.
[To himself, recoiling, after a glance through the
sliding-doors, off.] My hat !
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Warningly, as SYLVIA carefully closes sliding-doors,
pushes the sofa aside, and comes down.] Sylvia ! Don't
you see Mr. Pringle?
SYLVIA.
[Turning and starting] Oh ! What have I said ?
THE BRASS BOTTLE 129
MRS. FUTVOYE,
Nothing, my dear. [Turning to PRINGLE.] I must
ask you to excuse me, Mr. Pringle. My husband is
a little irritable this morning. [Going up to sliding-
doors.] A sharp attack of of gout. In both legs,
you know ! [She slips in behind the long sofa, pushes
back doors, draws the curtains behind them.] Anthony,
you must not excite yourself like this.
[She goes into study, closing the sliding-doors
after her. A slight pause, SYLVIA pushes
the sofa back against the sliding-doors
and seats herself on it.
PRINGLE.
[Approaching the sofa, with sympathy.] I really
had no idea your father was was as bad as all
SYLVIA.
[On her guard.] People do kick, Mr. Pringle, when
they have gout in both legs.
PRINGLE.
Do they? I should hardly have thought par-
ticularly [with meaning] if they've gout in- all
four.
SYLVIA.
[Shrinking back.] " All four ! " Then you know !
PRINGLE.
Pardon me but I couldn't help catching a glimpse
just now through these doors.
I3 o THE BRASS BOTTLE
SYLVIA.
A glimpse ? What did you suppose you saw ?
PEINGLE.
I had an impression of course I may be quite
wrong ! that any one who didn't know your father
might almost mistake him, at first sight, for I am
trying to put it as delicately as I can for some kind
of er quadruped. [He sits on sofa beside her.
SYLVIA.
You mean a mule ! [She rises in tears, and crosses
to the mantelpiece.] I think I could have borne it
better if he'd only been a nice mule. B but
[breaking down] he isnt !
PRINGLE.
[Rising and going towards her.] You don't say so !
[Sympathetically.] That, of course, must make it all
the harder for you.
SYLVIA.
[Tearfully.] His temper is simply fearful ! Why,
just now, when I said he must try to manage some
oats or a carrot for lunch, he he lashed out and
sent his hoofs through the mummy-case !
PRINGLE.
Dear dear ! Perhaps if you could persuade him
to see a vet [Correcting himself t ] I mean a
doctor
THE BRASS BOTTLE 131
SYLVIA.
[Crossing towards sofa on right.] It would be no
use he never will take medicine ! And what are
we to do with him ? It's too dreadful to think that
he may have to be sent to to a Home of Rest
for Horses !
[She sinks on sofa, and bursts into tears once
more.
PRINGLE.
[Following her,] He never was what you might
call a " horsey " man let us hope he won't come to
that ! Have you any idea how he came to be er
affected like this ?
SYLVIA.
\Resentfully, through her tears.] There's no affecta-
tion about it, Mr. Pringle oh, you mean " afflicted "
we can't think. He wasn't as bright as usual
at breakfast I think he was rather worried because
he couldn't find that seal Horace lent him last
night
PRINGLE.
But no amount of worry ! Pardon me, I
interrupt you. [He takes a chair by the sofa.
SYLVIA.
Well ; then Jessie came in to say that a foreign
gentleman had called to see him on important busi-
ness. Father told her to show him into the study,
and went in presently to hear what he came
about. We heard them arguing, and father's voice
132 THE BRASS BOTTLE
seemed to be getting angry, so mother went in to
beg him not to excite himself. She found father
alone, and just as she opened the door he he
changed into a mule before her eyes.
[She breaks down entirely.
PEINGLE
Really ? It it must have upset her considerably.
SYLVIA.
It did. But, luckily, mother never loses her
head. She locked the study doors at once, and we
shut these, and I don't think the servants suspect
anything at present. But they're sure to find out
before long.
PEINGLE,
Yes. I'm afraid it's bound to leak out.
SYLVIA.
But how could this horrible thing have happened ?
PEINGLE.
[Solemnly.] My dear Miss Sylvia, let me remind
you that " there are more things in heaven and
earth than are dreamed of in "
SYLVIA.
[Petulantly.] Oh, don't quote that now, Mr, Pringle !
It is so stale !
THE BRASS BOTTLE 133
PRINGLE,
[With wounded dignity.} It may be stale but it's
Shakespeare! And I can only conclude that even
in the twentieth century magic is not the lost art I
had always imagined it.
SYLVIA.
[Turning to him with more interest.} Then you be-
lieve now that Horace did find a Jinnee in that brass
bottle ?
PRINGLE,
[Rising.} No, no. I don't go as far as that.
SYLVIA,
How far do you go ?
PRINGLE.
Well, I know that Ventimore is associated with an
elderly Oriental who possesses extraordinary will-
power. This very morning, in Ventimore's own
office, they played a highly unprofessional and dis-
creditable trick between them on your own godfather,
Mr. Wackerbath.
SYLVIA,
On godfather ! No, no, I'm sure Horace had nothing
to do with that I
PRINGLE.
I was there and he evidently had a great deal to do
with it* I thought at the time it was hypnotism but
I 3 4 THE BRASS BOTTLE
it's clear enough now that this confederate of Venti-
more's is a powerful and most unscrupulous magician,
SYLVIA.
[Springing up indignantly, and crossing to fireplace,]
I won't hear any more ! You're trying to make me
doubt Horace again but you can't ! you cant ! I
know he'd never send a magician to hurt father ! [As
HORACE enters from the hall, looking pale and wild.]
Ah ! Horace, you needn't tell me ! You at least have
no share in what has happened !
HORACE.
[Going to her and taking both her hands.] Darling !
For Heaven's sake tell me what has happened ?
SYLVIA.
[Triumphantly.] You hear, Mr. Pringle ? He
doesn't even know ! Now will you dare to repeat
what you were saying to his face ?
PRINGLE.
If you insist. I've been saying, Ventimore, that I
believe you to have inspired this abominable trans-
formation of the Professor.
HORACE.
It's true, then ? He he really is a mule ?
THE BRASS BOTTLE 135
SYLVIA.
[Disengaging herself, with a sudden doubu] Horace,
tell me did you send any one to father !
HORACE.
[/Sinking into chair by sofa.] Heaven forgive mej
I did,
SYLVIA.
[Recoiling from him with aversion.] To transform
him into a mule ?
[She goes to a chair below fireplace, and seats
herself in despair.
HORACE.
[Rising and going towards her.] No, no ! I wanted
old Fakrash to convince him that he really had been
in the bottle but not like this ! I thought I could
trust him to do that ! [Bitterly.] But I might have
known !
PRINGLE.
So you still stick to that story about the Jinnee ?
HORACE.
Surely even you must believe it now ?
PRINGLE.
I I admit that it doesn't seem so incredible as it
did, But, if true, there's all the less excuse for you.
136 THE BRASS BOTTLE
Because you can make this Jinnee, or whatever he is,
do anything you tell him. You can't deny that
I've seen you do it, you know !
SYLVIA.
Ah!
HORACE.
I can manage him right enough when he's there
it's when I haven't got my eye on him that he makes
all these mistakes.
SYLVIA,
But why should he change poor father into a one-
eyed mule ? It's so utterly unreasonable !
HORACE.
I'm afraid the Professor alarmed him by threaten-
ing to send for a constable. However, darling and
this is what I'm here to tell you it won't last long.
Til take care that your father will soon be restored.
SYLVIA.
[Rising, overjoyed.} You will? Oh, I must tell
them ! {Rushing to the sliding-doors and slightly open,
ing them.} Mother, mother ! I've news good news !
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Looking cautiously through the opening} What is
it, Sylvia ? [Sees HORACE with displeasure} Mr. Ven-
timore ! You here ! [Stamping heard from study
THE BRASS BOTTLE 137
MRS. FUTVOYE turns and speaks over her shoulder.]
Keep back, Anthony! Keep back! Remember
you're not fit to be seen, as you are !
SYLVIA.
[Happily.} It doesn't matter, mother. They both
know. And Horace is going to make father all right
again.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Oh, in that case
[She pushes the sofa aside and comes through,
leaving the sliding-doors open, and pulling
the curtains back, but replacing the sofa.
HORACE.
Mrs. Futvoye, I've something to say which I think
will cheer the Professor up a bit.
MRS, FUTVOYE.
Unless you can say how and when my husband may
expect to see an end of all this
HORACE.
I shall make old Fakrash see to that.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Make old Fakrash see to it ?
138 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
The Jinnee I let out of that brass bottle. I told
you all about him last night. You didn't believe me
PRINGLE.
None of us did. But I'm afraid, Mrs. Futvoye,
we've got to believe now.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[To HORACE.] Then are you responsible for this ?
HORACE.
Indirectly. Only indirectly. I couldn't prevent
Fakrash making an ass of himself.
MRS, FUTVOYE.
You might have prevented his making a mule of
my husband !
[Another plunge and crash of glass from behind.
HORACE.
I wasn't consulted ! But I will say this for old
Fakrash nobody's readier to repair a blunder when
once it's pointed out to him. He'll do anything for
me.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Then send for him and insist on his repairing what
he's done here.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 139
SYLVIA.
[Eagerly, down on right.'] Yes, yes. Send for him,
Horace, send for him !
HORACE.
[Heavily.'] I'm afraid it wouldn't be any use.
PRINGLE,
Nonsense! You could make him come if you
chose !
HORACE.
I tell you I can't. I don't even know where he
is or if he hasn't gone off to Arabia again
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Off to Arabia ! [Going towards him.} And when
when is he likely to be back ?
HORACE.
[Suddenly.} Oh ! [He collapses into the chair above
the fireplace.] I I've only just remembered. He
told me he was going to settle down there !
[General consternation.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
And is my husband to remain a mule for the rest
of his life ? [Furious plunging heard from study.
140 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
[In a choked voice.] Don't ask me, Mrs. Futvoye
don't ask me !
PRINGLE.
[Coming towards HORACE.] I thought, Yentimore,
you came to cheer the Professor up ?
SYLVIA.
Horace, if you don't summon that odious Jinnee
this instant, I shall hate you ! I'm beginning to, as
it is!
HORACE.
[Rising and coming towards her.] My darling, I'd
do any mortal thing I could but I'm helpless ! [A t
this instant FAKRASH, in Oriental robe and turban t and
a long green cloak, suddenly emerges from the cabinet
between the sliding -doors and the door to the hall t and
stands scowling and evidently trying to repress both
rage and fear. HORACE sees him first.] No, I'm not!
Hooray ! we're 1 saved ! He's turned up, after all !
[The others retreat towards the fireplace in alarm.]
Leave him to me. I know how to manage him. [He
approaches FAKRASH.] So here you are ! If you aren't
ashamed of yourself, you jolly well ought to be ! A
pretty mess you've landed us in this time ! Just you
get us out of it again !
FAKRASH.
[Waving him aside.] No greeting to thee! I have
come upon my own affairs.
THE BRASS BOTTLE i 4I
HORACE.
You'll attend to mine first. Undo this infamous
spell of yours do you hear ?
FAKRASH.
[Sullenly.] I will grant nothing more at thy
request.
HORACE.
I don't think you quite understand. I don't
request I command. On the head and on the eye !
FAKRASH.
Thou art wasting breath. No longer am I under
obligation to thee, thou perfidious one !
HORACE.
[Anxiously.] Why what's come to you? [Coax-
ingly.] I say ! Fakrash old chappie. Don't play
the goat now ! You can't mean to leave me on the
mat like this !
FAKRASH.
[Glaring at him.] Canst thou not perceive how
hateful thou hast become to me ?
HORACE.
I do notice a coolness. But why ? You were
chummy enough not half an hour ago !
I 4 2 THE BRASS BOTTLE
FAKRASH.
[Going from him towards right.] I had not then
discovered thy treachery.
HORACE.
You're barking up the wrong tree, as usual, you
know. Come tell me what it's all about ?
FAKRASH.
Not now. I will deal with thee hereafter, mis-
begotten cur that thou art ! [He stalks towards window.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[From below fireplace, to HORACE,] You don't seem
to be managing him very well so far.
PRINGLE.
[Coming down to HORACE.] You gave us to under-
stand that he would do anything for you.
HORACE.
So he will, generally but not just now. [Crossing
to MRS. FUTVOYE and SYLVIA, while FAKRASH remains
apart, with his back to the others] He's suddenly
turned nasty I've no idea why. But I shall bring
him round in time.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
It's my husband who has to be brought round and
there's no time to be lost !
THE BRASS BOTTLE 143
HORACE.
I know but if I press Fakrash in his present
mood, I shall only make matters worse.
PEINGLE.
Well, if you can't or won't get him to do some-
thing, one of us must try ! Perhaps if Miss Sylvia
could bring herself jfco appeal to his better feel-
ings ?
SYLVIA.
[Shrinking back.} People who come out of bottles
can't have better feelings ! I couldn't really r , I
couldn't.
PEINGLE.
You'd rather not ? [SYLVIA shudders.} Then I must
see what / can do.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
How good of you !
HORACE.
[Drawing PRINGLE back as he is going towards
FAKRASH.] I wouldn't, Pringle ! He's in a vile
temper. And, unless you're anxious to become a
domestic animal of some sort
SYLVIA.
Pray don't run such a risk, dear Mr c Pringle !
PRINGLE.
I shall be very careful, and I trust that, with
i 4 4 THE BRASS BOTTLE
ordinary tact [He makes a step towards FAKRASH.]
Ahem ! [FAKRASH turns suddenly round with a feline
snarl ; all retreat to left ; PRINGLE pulls himself together
and tries again.] My my dear sir, may I ask your
attention for a few moments ?
FAKRASH.
[Striding towards him.] Who art thou ? a friend
of yonder serpent's ?
HORACE.
[Indignantly.] Oh, I say ! " Serpent," you know !
" Serpent " is a bit [FAKRASH ignores him.
PRINGLE.
No, no, I repudiate him. I represent this unfor-
tunate family they repudiate him too.
MRS. FUTVOYE AND SYLVIA.
[Together.] Yes, yes, indeed indeed we do !
[HORACE sinks speechlessly on chair by sofa
on right.
FAKRASH.
[To PRINGLE.] I will hearken unto thee, for indeed
thou see meat a person of abundant intelligence and
excellent conduct,
PRINGLE.
You're very kind I hope I am. Hem ! [Going
nearer FAKRASH.] I am sure, sir, that, if you had
THE BRASS BOTTLE 145
realised the serious embarrassment you have caused the
members of this household by transforming its head
into a one-eyed mule, you would never have allowed
your your sense of humour to carry you so far,
FAKEASH.
For mine own safety was it accomplished for the
sage threatened to deliver me into custody.
HORACE.
[Starting up and coming towards FAKRASH.] He
never meant it ! And, anyhow, you're safe enough !
FAKRASH.
[Turning on him fiercely,] Hold thy lying tongue !
PRINGLE.
Yentimore, I must beg you not to interfere,
HORACE.
Damn it all, Pringle, he's my Jinnee not yours !
[He attempts to join MRS. FUTVOYE and
SYLVIA, who turn their backs on him, after
which he returns to his former place,
crushed.
PRINGLE.
[To FAKRASH.] Evidently, sir, there has been some
slight misunderstanding on both sides. But I feel
confident that, if you will only consent to see this
I 4 6 THE BRASS BOTTLE
unfortunate gentleman, the matter can very soon be
amicably arranged.
FAKRASH.
I am here for this very purpose. Let this learned
man appear before me.
PRINGLE.
I won't keep you waiting long. [He goes up to' the
sliding-doors and calls.] Professor ! If you will
kindly step this way, Mr. Fakrash would be glad to
see you.
[A pause. THE MULE comes slowly on from
the left side of the sliding.doors.
HORACE.
[Overwhelmed.] Great Heavens above !
PRINGLE.
[Trying to be polite and at his ease.] Er how do
you do, Professor ? Sorry to see you looking so so
unlike yourself, [THE MULE shows irritation ;
PRINGLE retreats nervously ; then, in an undertone to
MRS. FUTVOYE.] He he can't jump that sofa, can
he?
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[In an undertone, to him.] Of course not that's
why it's there !
PRINGLE.
[To FAKRASH.] A distinguished archaeologist, sir,
a corresponding member of every learned society in
THE BRASS BOTTLE 147
Europe reduced to these extremities! [To THE
MULE, which seems to feel its position acutely.] Pro-
fessor, as Ventimore has refused to interfere, I
have taken on myself to assure this this venerable
Jane
HORACE.
[In an undertone to PRINGLE.] Jinnee ! Call him
" Jinnee " !
PRINGLE.
[To HORACE.] I prefer to leave such familiarities
to you, Ventimore [To MULE.] this venerable
personage, Professor, that if you have inadvertently
offended him, you are ready to make any reasonable
apology. That is so ? [Tns MULE bows its head.
FAKHASH.
Ask if he be willing to surrender the stopper of
the bottle wherein I was enclosed.
[MULE shakes head,
PRINGLE.
Now, Professor, if you consent to a request which
I must say seems to me a very moderate and proper
one, will you er signify the same in the usual
manner by raising er your right ear ?
[THE MULE'S left ear goes up sharply.
FAKRASH.
The left ear ! He ref useth !
I 4 8
THE BRASS BOTTLE
PRINGLE,
No, no, he meant the right ear he hasn't pot
complete muscular control as yet. I really think we
should get on better if you gave him back his power
of speech.
FAKRASH.
It may be so. [He approaches THE MULE and
addresses it.] thou of remarkable attainments,
whom I have caused to assume the shape of this mule,
speak, I command thee, and say if thou wilt restore
my stopper.
THE MULE.
[Laying back its ears and
you damned first !
its teeth.] I'll see
[General sensation.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Going towards THE MULE in distress.] Oh ! he
wouldn't be so obstinate if he wasn't a mule !
FAKRASH.
[To THE MULE.] Thou art trifling with my safety
and thine own ! Reveal unto me the spot in which
thou hast hidden the stopper and delay not for it
will be no difficult undertaking to transform these
women of thine into mules like thyself.
[Horror of MRS. FUTVOYE and SYLVIA, and
despair and rage of HORACE, who rises
and rushes towards FAKRASH.
THE MULE.
You can do it for all / care !
THE BRASS BOTTLE 149
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Oh, Anthony !
THE MULE.
We shall at least be a more united family than we
are now !
MRS; FUTVOYE.
[Frantically.] Anthony ! Don't provoke him !
Think of others !
FAKRASH,
[With some anxiety.] Hearken! I am disposed to
show thee indulgence. Obey, and I will restore
thee to what thou wert.
THE MULE.
Why couldn't you say so before ? I'll accept those
terms, as there's no alternative. Only [with his head
on one side reflectively^ I can't for the life of me
recollect what I did with that seal. Tut-tut !
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Oh, Anthony ! Think ! Think !
[General suspense and excitement.
THE MULE.
[Irritably] I am thinking, Sophia ! [After further
re/lection.] Ah ! I remember now ! I put it inside
one of the vases on the mantelpiece, for safety.
[HORACE looks aimlessly under the table and
sofa; MRS. FUTVOYE, SYLVIA, and PRINGLE
rush to the fireplace and search the vases.
1 50 THE BRASS BOTTLE
MRS. FUTVOYE AND SYLVIA.
[Turning vases upside down.] Which? Which? No,
It's not there I It's not here I
PRINGLE.
[As he finds the metal cap in the last vase.] I've got
it ! [Going to FAKRASH, and presenting it.] Allow me, sir,
[FAKRASH snatches it eagerly. PRINGLE goes
up to THE MULE and reassures it, MRS.
FUTVOYE accompanying him.
FAKRASH.
[Gloating over the cap] It is indeed my stopper !
Now shall I be secure from disturbance !
HORACE.
[Going to FAKRASH, seizing his arm, and drawing him
to the right ; then, in an undertone.] Pitch into me
afterwards if you like but listen now. You must
keep your side of the bargain !
FAKRASH.
[Coldly.] What / have promised I perform.
HORACE.
[Relieved.] Ah, I knew you were a good old sort
at bottom. And I say do make them understand
that Pve had nothing to do with all this.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 151
FAKRASH.
[Grimly.] Have no uneasiness for thou shalt
receive justice. [HORACE retires to sofa on right,
expecting to be rehabilitated.] Hear, O company, my
words ! I repent of my conduct in obeying the
orders of yonder wretch [pointing to HORACE, who
gasps in stupefaction] who is seeking even now to
deter me from showing kindness.
HORACE.
Liar ! Liar !
FAKRASH.
Being desirous of escaping marriage with this
damsel [with a step towards SYLVIA] he commanded
me to transform her father as ye see. And I, whom
he had delivered from a bottle of brass, was com-
pelled by gratitude to fulfil all his desires.
HORACE.
[Going up to FAKRASH furiously.] You infernal old
scoundrel! [FAKRASH smiles malignantly and stalks
off to the right ; HORACE crosses to SYLVIA,] You don't
believe him, Sylvia ? You can't !
SYLVIA.
Don't speak to me ! Don't come near me f !
[MRS. FUTVOYE and PRINQLE express disgust
and indignation.
152 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
You're devilish hard on me, all of you. [He staggers
to the sofa in front of sliding-doors and falls back,
hitting his head a'jainst THE MULE'S nose ; THE MULE
makes a grab at him ; he rises in confusion,] I I beg
your pardon, sir ! [He retreats to the left of the sofa.
SYLVIA.
[Down on left, to FAKRASH.] But you won't obey
him any longer, will you ? You are going to restore
poor father '{
FAKRASH.
[On the right.] Let him first swear that he and all
his household will preserve secrecy concerning this
affair.
THE MULE.
[Angrily] Damn it, sir, we're not likely to chatter
about it 1
PRINGLE.
[Approaching FAKRASH, reassuringly] It will never
be allowed to go beyond the family.
FAKRASH.
[To PRINGLE.] eloquent and comely-faced one, I
accept thy undertaking, for thou art indeed a worthy
and honourable person. [As PRINGLE, highly flattered,
returns to THE MULE, FAKRASH beckons MRS. FUTVOYE.]
In order that I may restore thy husband, bring me
hither a cup of fair water.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 153
MRS. FUTVOYE.
There's some in the dining-room. [Going towards
door to hall.] At least, it's filtered, if that will do!
THE MULE.
Don't ask foolish questions, Sophia do as you're
told !
MRS. FUTVOYE,
[ With dignity.] I think you forget yourself, Anthony !
[PRINGLE opens the door for her, and she goes
out.
SYLVIA.
[Going to PRINGLE, and taking his hand,] Dear, dear
Mr. Pringle ! Where should we be without you ?
PRINGLE.
[Modestly.] Don't mention it, Miss Sylvia! That
is no trouble, I assure you !
[They come down together to the left, talking
in dumb show.
HORACE.
[Going to FAKRASH on the right.] You you pig-
headed old muddler [pointing to SYLVIA and PRINGLE]
look at that I You've done for me this time.
FAKRASH.
[Darkly.] Nay not yet.
[MRS. FUTVOYE enters from the hall, carrying
a glass goblet full of water.
THE BRASS BOTTLE
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[To FAKRASH.] I've brought it in this, but if you
prefer a breakfast-cup
THE MULE.
[Impatiently.] What the devil does it matter ? Let
him get on with it !
FAKRASH.
[As he meets MRS. FUTVOYE and takes the goblet from
her.] This will serve. [He goes up to THE MULE and
sprinkles some drops of water on its head.] Quit this
form and return unto the form in which thou wert !
[THE MuLE/ades into the PROFESSOR, who
appears gasping and in an extremely bad
temper; PRINGLE shifts the sofa to let
him pass; FAKRASH retires to near the
window.
SYLVIA.
[Rushing to the PROFESSOR.] Father !
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Coming to his other side] Now, Anthony, after all
you have been through, you'd better sit down for a
little.
SYLVIA.
[As she and MRS. FUTVOYE bring him down to the
chair left of sofa on right] It is lovely to have you
back, father dear !
THE BRASS BOTTLE 155
PRINGLE.
[Joining them.} You're looking better already, sir !
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Sinking into the chair by sofa.] Tut-tut ! There,
there nothing to make all this fuss about ! If one
of you had only had the sense to try cold water, I
should have come round long before this !
SYLVIA.
But, father J you forget that, but for Mr.
Pringle
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
No, my dear, I do not. I owe much very much
to Pringle's good offices as I shall remember, my
dear Pringle, as I shall remember. But I attribute
my restoration in some measure to the fact that from
first to last I was able to preserve perfect calm and
self-control.
PRINGLE.
[With an involuntary glance at the study, in which
every article of furniture is smashed.} Quite so 1 And
now I want you all three to celebrate your recovery
by dining with me this evening at the Savoy. You
promised you would last night, Professor. Not in the
restaurant I'll engage a private room.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
No, no not to-night, my boy. I don't feel up to
going out just yet.
156 THE BRASS BOTTLE
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Nonsense, Anthony ! You can dine out anywhere
no w, you know and it will do you good. Thank you,
Mr. Pringle, we shall be delighted. Sha'n't we,
Sylvia?
SYLVIA.
I think I would rather stay at home this evening,
mother. [PRINGLE tries to persuade her in by-play.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Rising.] We'll come, Pringle, we'll come. [To
FAKRASH, who is still standing by the window] Now
then, sir, you've got all you came for what are you
waiting for ?
FAKRASH.
To receive thy thanks.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
What ? For exposing me to all this humiliation !
You'll get no thanks from me, sir and the sooner
you and your accomplice relieve this house of your
presence the better !
FAKRASH.
[Moving to right behind the sofa.~\ Let the rat, while
he is still between the leopard's paws, observe rigidly
all the laws of politeness ! Take heed or thou
mayst become more hideous even than a mule !
[General sensation.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 15 7
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Eh ? I spoke hastily but I meant nothing offen-
sive ! I I'm very much obliged to you. And now
don't let us detain you either of you from your
other engagements.
HORACE.
[Coming forward.] I'm going, sir but I must say
one last word to Sylvia !
FAKRASH.
[To SYLVIA.] Hearken not to this deceiver,
damsel, for he will never wed thee !
SYLVIA.
[Indignantly.] I'll never wed him I
FAKRASH.
Thou wilt not for he is betrothed to a darker
bride.
HORACE.
What !
SYLVIA.
Ah ! [To HORACE, coldly.} The the lady I met last
night ? I wish you every happiness. [Turning to
PRINGLE.] On second thoughts, Mr, Pringle, I will
come to dinner to-night.
[PRINGLE expresses his gratification.
158 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
[Going nearer SYLVIA.] Sylvia ! It may be for the
last time -\
FAKRASH.
It is ! Come ! [He extends his right hand towards
HORACE, who is irresistibly drawn backwards to him.]
For I will tarry no longer. [He seizes his arm.
HORACE.
[Making an ineffectual resistance.] Let me go,
Fakrash ! Where are you taking me to ?
FAKRASH.
[Seizes him round the waist.] To meet [he soars up
with HORACE through the open window on the right, and
the remainder of the sentence is continued outride in
mid-air] thy bride !
[The others go to window and gaze after them t
pointing upwards.
PRINGLE.
[With solemn disapproval.] Disgraceful! They've
flown right over the chimney-pots !
THE CURTAIN FALLS,
END OF THE THIRD ACT,
THE FOURTH ACT
SCENE I
HORACE'S rooms, as in the opening of the play*
The time is immediately after the close of the Third Act t
As the curtain rises MRS. RAPKIN is arranging
various articles on the table. RAPKIN enters from
the door leading to landing, carrying a pair of
boots on trees, which he takes into HORACE'S bed-
room by the door down on the right t and thtn
returns.
RAPKIN.
[Uneasily, to MRS. RAPKIN,] Marire, did Mr,
Ventimore say anythink this morning regarding
last night ?
MRS. RAPKIN.
Ah, you may well ask ! After sneakin' off first
thing like you did, and leavin' me to make your
excuses !
RAPKIN.
You'd some to make on your own, Marire, [Sitting
on right of table.] If his friends got any dinner, it
was no thanks to you !
'59
160 THE BRASS BOTTLE
MRS. RAPKIN,
I'd never have gone if I 'adn't fancied the 'ouse
was changed into Arabian 'alls and full o' grinnin'
niggers !
RAPKIN,
Fancied! Why, / see 'em same as you did,
didn't I ?
MRS. RAPKIN.
You ! You'd ha' seen anythink in the condition
you was ^in ! And, any'ow, the 'ouse was just as
usual when we come in.
RAPKIN.
It was and that on'y made it all the rummier !
For you can't deny as there was somethink queer
goin' on 'ere.
MRS. RAPKIN.
[Severely.} There was you, William ! And you'll
go on from bad to worse if you don't give up
nippin' ! [She goes up to bookcase on the left.
RAPKIN,
Oh, come orf it, Marire ! You tole me yourself
you see a percession of camels stop at our door long
before / got 'ome !
MRS. RAPKIN.
And I did if it was my last words. Camuels and
furrin' parties as brought in packages off of them.
Luckily, they was all gone afore the neighbours 'ad
time to take notice, [Coming down to table.] And the
THE BRASS BOTTLE 161
best thing you and me can do is to let bygones be
bygones, and 'old our tongues about it.
RAPKIN.
All very fine but 'ow do we know Mr. Ventimore
mayn't be up to more of these 'ere games ?
MRS. RAPKIN.
Mr. Yentimore ! I did blame him at first. But
I'm sure now as 'e 'ad nothink to do with it. Poor
dear young gentleman, we've never known 'im
beyave otherwise than as a gentleman, and
[There is a sound outside of rushing wind, as
FAKRASH swoops down with HORACE and both alight
on the balcony; MRS. RAPKIN turns, screams, and
sinks into a chair on the right of the fireplace.] Bless
us and save us ! Oh, Mr. Ventimore ! [Seeing FAK-
RASH.] And who's that ?
HORACE.
[Disengaging himself from FAKRASH, and stepping
in.] That will do, Mrs. Rapkin. Can't I bring a a
friend in with me without your making all this fuss
about it ?
MRS. RAPKIN.
[Rising, with dignity.] When you and your friends
come flyin' in at first-floor windows like pidgins, Mr.
Yentimore, you must expect some notice to be took.
[RAPKIN makes a movement to the left as though fasci-
nated by FAKRASH, who stands impassively by the
window.] It's giving my 'ouse a bad name, and, as,
li
162
THE BRASS BOTTLE
I've always kep' these apartments respectable
'itherto, you'll be good enough to find others where
they're less partickler, for put up with it I
won't !
HORACE.
All right, all right ! You can go now [touching
RAPKIN, who seems spellbound with fear of FAKEASH]
both of you. I've some business to settle with this
gentleman.
MRS. RAPKIN.
[At door*] I'm going.
RAPKIN.
[As he follows, still keeping his eyes on FAKRASH.]
'E's done it, Marire sold 'isself, 'e 'as ! Ah ! [As he
goes out with MRS. RAPKIN.] I wouldn't be in his
shoes for somethink !
[The moment they have gone HORACE rushes
to the door, opens it to make sure that
they are not listening outside, then locks
it, and comes down to FAKRASH in a
HORACE,
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.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 163
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 ! [Sacking 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
1 64
THE BRASS BOTTLE
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.
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.
1 don't know of anybody that has. [Half to him-
self.] 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
THE BRASS BOTTLE 165
behold such signs. [Pointing with left hand through
the open windows.] Tell me, what are yonder strong-
holds 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.
[Whose expression during the above speech shows that
a way out is beginning to suggest itself; to himself.]
If I can if only I can ! [As FAKRASH again waves the
scimitar. 1 All right ! I'll try to tell you. [He seats
himself on the edge of the table] The er potentate
1 66 THE BRASS BOTTLE
has several names, but his most popular title is
Progress.
FAKRASH.
[Salaaming.] On whom be peace !
HORACE.
By all means! Well, Progress has subdued the
er unruly forces of Nature, and compelled them
to labour for humanity.
FAKRASH.
Then why didst thou conceal from me that I, too,
am in danger of being seized and condemned to toil ?
HORACE.
Why? Because I thought you were such a re-
spectable, harmless old foozle that you'd never do
anything to deserve it. [Watching him.] But, of
course, you will if you cut my head off. You'll have
a much worse time than ever you had in the bottle !
FAKRASH.
I know it. For no other reason have I recovered
my stopper but to return into my bottle once more.
HORACE.
[Relieved.] I think you're wise. [Getting down from
the table] And I tell you what if you'll only make
it worth my while I'll seal you up myself.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 167
FA K RASH.
O thou of imperfect understanding ! Ere I re-enter
my bottle thy head will already have been smitten
from thy shoulders. [Pointing scimitar across table at
HORACE.] How, then, couldst thou ?
HORACE.
[Wincing.] You needn't go on I quite see your
point. Only if / don't seal you up, who will t
FAKRASH.
[Confidently.} I shall summon my Efreets to enclose
me within the bottle and transport it to the Sea of
El-Karkar, where I shall be undisturbed.
HORACE.
[Slightly dashed for the moment.} Oh ! is that the
idea ? [Catching at a straw.] But Efreets, eh ? [Watching
him keenly.} Are you quite sure you can trust 'em ?
You know what Efreets are 1 [ With triumph, as
FAKRASH plucks at his beard uneasily.] Ah ! I thought
you did !
FAKRASH.
Thinkest thou that they might betray me ?
HORACE.
They'd love it ! And as soon as they got you
safely corked up, what's to prevent them from handing
you over to Progress ? Progress won't put up with
your little ways you can't go about beheading
1 68 THE BRASS BOTTLE
architects in this country without paying for your
fun. I expect you'd catch it devilish hot !
FAKRASH.
[Falling on his knees in sudden terror.] Repentance,
Progress ! I will not return to the like conduct
ever! [He rises trembling.] Willingly will I depart
from the world as it now is for it hath ceased to be
a pleasure-garden and become a place of desolation
and horror !
HORACE.
[Calmly.] Quite so; and I can help you to return
from it. I'm not an Efreet, and if / undertake to
bottle you up and drop you into a deep part of our
river here, you can depend on me to do it.
FAKRASH.
Undertake this, and in return I will grant thee
thy life.
HORACE.
[Disguising his satisfaction.] Not good enough !
You must offer better terms than that ! What have
you done to deserve any help from me ?
FAKRASH.
Have I not loaded thee with kindnesses ?
HORACE.
Kindnesses! Till I met you I was happy and
hopeful now, I'm miserable and desperate !
THE BRASS BOTTLE 169
FAKRASH.
Is not life itself a sufficient boon ?
HORACE.
What ? When you've parted me for ever from the
girl I love ! Life is no boon to me now. If you
don't put an end to me I shall do it myself by
jumping over that balcony and breaking my neck!
. . e I've a good mind to do it now,
[He makes a sudden movement towards the
balcony as though to carry out his threat*
FAKRASH
[Detaining him.] Hold ! I entreat thee ! Do not
abandon me thus, and all that I have done I will
undo !
[As he speaks he throws away the scimitar ,
which, to HORACE'S amazement, vanishes.
HORACE
[Going to the right with his back to the audience.]
That's more like business I But can you undo the
mischief youVe done?
FAKRASH.
With the greatest ease that can be ! [He stalks
towards the window, extends his right arm, and mutters
some cryptic sentence, then turns complacently to HORACE.]
I have obliterated from the minds of thy betrothed
and her parents all memory of myself and the brass
bottle, and of every incident connected therewith.
170 THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
By Jove! That's rather a neat way out [with
sudden doubt] if you've really done all that !
FAKRASH.
May I be thy ransom if it be not accomplished !
HORACE.
Well, I must take your word for it. But there's
Mr. and Mrs. Wackerbath, can you make them
forget everything connected with you except that
I'm to build them a house ?
FAKRASH.
[Going to the window and repeating the incantation,
then returning to the centre of the room.] All else hath
utterly passed from their recollection.
HORACE.
Splendid ! Do the thing well while you're about
it better throw in their coachman oh, and the
couple you saw here just now, the Rapkins.
FAKRASH.
[Repeats the incantation, facing the door.] It is
done. They remember naught of that they have
seen. And now ask no more of me E but perform thy
part and bring hither my bottle.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 171
HORACE.
[Going to door down on the right.] Right ! I'll go
and get it out of my bedroom. \He goes out.
FAKRASH.
[Pacing up and down in suspense and terror.]
Haste ! Haste ! For until I am in my bottle once
more every instant is an eternity !
HORACE.
[Returning with the bottle, which he sets down on the
Jloor in front of the mantelpiece.] Here's your bottle!
Got the stopper ?
FAKRASH.
[After some fumbling in his robes, finds the metal
cap and gives it to HORACE.] It is here, Now swear
to me by the beard of Progress that thou wilt drop
me into deep waters, even as thou hast promised !
HORACE.
I swear it by the beard of Progress on whom be
peace ! . . . You step in, sir, and leave the rest
to me.
FAKRASH.
[As he raises his arms and moves towards the fireplace.]
To escape into a bottle is pleasant !
HORACE.
Delightful !
172 THE BRASS BOTTLE
FAKRASH.
[ Who is now behind the bottle, with his arms extended
in supplication and his back to the audience.] Towbah
yah nebbi ullah Anna lah amill Kathalik ibadan!
Wullah hi !
[JFiiVA the last words lie disappears through
the neck of tJie bottle,
HORACE.
[Standing by the bottle with the cap] Tucked your-
self in comfortably ? Say when.
[There is a knock at the door leading to landing.
FAKRASH'S VOICE.
[From interior of bottle] I am betrayed ! The
constables of Progress are without ! Let me forth
that I may slay them and secure safety !
HORACE.
[Promptly clapping on the cap and screwing it
tightly] You're safer where you are, old cocky !
Good-bye! [Wipes his forehead] Phew! Near thing
that! [The knock is repeated] All right! Wait a
bit ! I'm busy ! [He takes the bottle into his bedroom.
RAPKIN'S VOICE,
[Outside door] All right, sir ! [HORACE returns,
goes to door at back, and unlocks it ; to RAPKIN, who is
seen with a telegram] What is it t
THE BRASS BOTTLE 173
RAPKIN.
[Entering] Reply telegram, sir. [Handing it to
HORACE.] Boy's waiting.
HORACE.
[Reading the telegram.'] "Can you dine with wife
and self, Savoy Hotel, 8.15 to-night? Quite small
party. Could discuss plans new house. Ask for
Pinafore ' Room. Wackerbath." Good ! Wackerbath's
all right, anyhow ! [He pulls a chair to the table and
sits down to Jill up the reply form* As he does so his
face suddenly clouds.] The /Savoy, though ! Pringle's
dining there to-night. ., . . Good Lord ! I forgot all
about Pringle ! I wonder if Fakrash has made him
forget ? If he didn't, by George ! there'll be a pretty
kettle of fish !
RAPKIN.
[Thinking he is being addressed.] Beg pardon, sir ?
HORACE.
Nothing I wasn't speaking to you. [Finishes
writing the form and hands it to RAPKIN.] Can you
read it ?
RAPKIN.
[Reading.] "Delighted. Savoy, 8.15 to-night.
Ventimore." Excuse me, sir, but when is it you're
expecting friends to dinner 'ere ?
HORACE.
[At a loss for the moment.] Er when? I I'm not
174 THE BRASS BOTTLE
sure. [As he crosses to his bedroom.] Oh, just tell Mrs.
Rapkin I should like to see her.
[He goes into bedroom.
RAPKIN.
[Looking round, as MRS. RAPKIN enters from land-
ing.] Mr. Ventimore was just asking for you, Marire.
MRS. RAPKIN.
[Surprised] Was he? I didn't know he'd come in.
[She crosses to the bookcase, places a newspaper
on the shelf on left of fireplace, then goes
to the windows and closes them.
RAPKIN.
Nor yet me but he 'ave.
[He goes out, leaving door open.
HORACE.
[Coming from bedroom, carrying a bulky and ap-
parently heavy kit-bag.] I only wanted to tell you that
I sha'n't be in to dinner to-night, Mrs. Rapkin.
[He sets the bag down on the table.
MRS.
Goin' out of town, sir ?
HORACE.
o. Why? [MRS.
this
No. Why ? [MRS. RAPKIN indicates the bag.] Oh,
iis kit-bag? I'm lending it to a friend of mine ?
THE BRASS BOTTLE 175
Just going to see him off [taking up the bag again
and going to the door] for a long holiday, I shall
come in to dress. [To himself.] Fool I was to forget
Pringle !
[As HORACE goes out the stage is in darkness
for an interval of a minute or two, after
which the curtain rises on the last scene.
SCENE II
The " Pinafore" private room at the Savoy Hotel.
At the back is a wide arch, beyond which is a glazed
balcony, with a view over the tops of the Embank-
ment trees of the river and the Surrey bank, with
the Shot Towers, &c., and the ends of Waterloo
Bridge on the extreme left, and of Charing Cross
Railway Bridge on the extreme right.
At the rising of the curtain this view is seen in a warm
sunset glow.
Above the arch there is a door on the right, leading to
the corridor and restaurant ; another on the left, by
which the waiters come in and go out.
Below the arch, down on the right, is a fireplace ; above
the fireplace, at right angles to it, a couch, and
behind the couch a long flower-stand filed with
flowers and palms.
Up the stage, centre, is a round table, laid for six
persons, and elaborately decorated with pink Gloire
1 76 THE BRASS BOTTLE
de France roses, under rose-shaded lamp. Six
chairs are placed round it, and a seventh chair is
in the glazed balcony.
Below the arch, on the left, is another door, and down
on left, at a slight angle, a sofa, with occasional
tables and chairs. Against the wall on left is a
glazed cabinet.
The furniture and decorations are copied from the
original room in the Savoy Hotel.
As the curtain rises the SECOND WAITER is placing the
napkins under the supervision of the FIRST
WAITER. Waltz music is heard from the res-
taurant on the right.
PRINGLE'S VOICE,
[Outside door above arch, to unseen attendant.]
" Entrance from the Embankment as well," eh ? Well,
why didn't you tell me that ? My friends have prob-
ably come in that way while I was waiting at the
other end ! This is the " Pinafore " Room, isn't it ?
Very well, then I expect I shall find them in here.
[He enters, and looks round the room.] No. They don't
seem to have arrived yet.
FIRST WAITER.
\By the table.'] Not yet. They vill be here soon.
[The SECOND WAITER goes out.
PRINGLE.
Eh? Well, I hope so, I'm sure. The>'re behind
their time as it is, [Inspecting table.] H'm ! Not
THE BRASS BOTTLE
177
bad. But you needn't have had all those roses half
a dozen would have been quite sufficient. And
hang it all ! You've laid for six people !
FIRST WAITER.
Pardon, m'sieu we receive orders to lay for six
person.
PRINGLE.
Nonsense ! Your orders were to lay for four* A
" petty party carry " if you know what that means,
FIRST WAITER.
Parfaitement but I think perhaps there is some
mistake. This is the " Pinafore " Room.
PRINGLE.
I know that and the manager told me this morn-
ing on the telephone that he's reserved the " Pinafore "
Room for me. I'm only expecting three guests, though ;
so just clear away those two extra places, and look
sharp about it. [The SECOND WAITER returns.
FIRST WAITER.
But excuse the manager he say to me
PRINGLE,
Confound you, do you suppose / don't know how
many people I've asked ? Have the table altered at
once, or I shall send for the manager.
M
178
THE BRASS BOTTLE
FIRST WAITER.
[With a shrug.] Bien, m'sieu ! You tell me there
is a mistake that is enoff I alter it.
\He gives orders in an undertone to the SECOND
WAITER, who removes tivo of the chairs to
the balcony, and takes off ike corresponding
plates, glasses, &c.
PRINGLE.
[As he comes down to the left,] I sha'n't pay for
more than four mind that ! [To himself, as he sits on
the couch down left.] It's going to cost me quite
enough without that, / can see ! [The Westminster
Clock tower is heard" striking the quarter ; PRINGLE takes
out his watch.] Eight-fifteen ! And I asked them for
eight sharp. Very singular the Professor's generally
so punctual ! [He rises eagerly as the door on right
above arch opens.] Ah, here they are ! [HORACE enters
and comes down ; PRINGLE draws himself up stiffly.]
What, you t Yentimore ! I scarcely expected to see
you here to-night,
[The two WAITERS go out ; the waltz music stops.
HORACE.
[Coming down to couch by fireplace.] Didn't you ?
I rather thought I might run across you, somehow.
PRINGLE.
[Austerely.] Considering that, when I last saw you,
you were flying over the chimney-pots with an
Oriental enchanter you had released from a brass
bottle
THE BRASS BOTTLE 179
HORACE.
[Seating himself on sofa by fireplace\ Ah ! So you
haverit forgotten !
PEINGLE.
It's hardly a thing one would be likely to forget in
a hurry. You were being conducted to meet your
bride, I think are you beginning your honeymoon
in this hotel ?
HORACE.
If you want to know, I'm here because I'm dining
with the Wackerbaths.
PRINGLE.
What ! the client I met in your office this
morning ? Then he must have an uncommonly short
memory, that's all ! But, whether you're dining
with him or not, that's no reason why you should
have forced your way in here! I suppose you're
hoping that, if you can only see Miss Futvoye
HORACE.
You're wrong, Pringle, quite wrong. I don't in
the least expect to see Miss Futvoye here to-night.
And I very much doubt if you will, either.
PRINGLE,
Do you ? You wouldn't if you'd heard her parting
words to me this afternoon. I said to her : " You
won't forget ? " Her answer was : " As if I could
after all you've done for us ! "
i8o THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
It it's just possible that all of them may have
forgotten an engagement which was made under
rather peculiar circumstances.
PRINGLE.
That's just why they're not likely to forget it.
[Going to fireplace, and standing with his back to it.]
They may be here at any moment !
HORACE,
They may but, if I were you, I shouldn't count
on them.
PRINGLE.
I do count on them and I consider your intrusion
here in the worst possible taste. I think you might
have the decency to go !
HORACE.
[Rising.] I tell you I'm here because this is the
room which Wackerbath asked me to come to.
PRINGLE.
It won't do, you know ! If it was, he'd be here
to receive you which he isn't.
[As he speaks MR. WACKERBATH bustles in
from the door below the arch on the left.
HORACE goes forward to meet him,
PRINGLE remaining by the fireplace in
wrathful astonishment.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 181
MR. WACKEEBATH.
[Shaking hands effusively with HORACE.] My dear
Mr. Ventimore, I really don't know how to apologise,
neither the wife nor myself down to receive you ! I
do hope you haven't been waiting long ?
HORACE.
Only just come, I assure you.
MR. WACKERBATH.
We have a private room, you see the wife prefers
it to the ah publicity of the restaurant. [The
FIRST and SECOND WAITERS enter from the door on the
left above the arch.] If you'll excuse me for a moment,
I'll just see how they've arranged the table. [He
bustles up to the table.} Why, hullo ! What's this ?
Only four places ! I ordered dinner for six I
FIRST WAITER.
I regret but it is not my fault. I lay for six ,
and a gentleman assure me I am wrong, it is for four
person only.
MR. WACKERBATH.
Don't talk about it put it right at once. I want
a chair in here and another here.
[He remains by the table, while the WAITERS
replace chairs and bring back plates,
glasses, &c.
PRINGLE.
[To HORACE.] Yentimore ! [HORACE crosses to fire-
place.] Will you kindly explain to your host that
182
THE BRASS BOTTLE
that's my dinner-table he's taking these liberties
with?
HORACE,.
I know nothing about it. You had better settle
that with him yourself.
I intend to presently.
[He stands, nursing his grievance, as MR.
WACKERBATH comes down to HORACE.
MR. WACKERBATH.
[To HORACE.] Those fellows seem to have mistaken
their orders. Lucky I noticed it in time ! [MRS.
WACKERBATH enters from the door below arch.] Ah,
here is my wife ! Eliza, my dear f
HORACE] our friend, Mr. Yentimore.
MRS. WACKERBATH.
[To HORACE, cordially, but with a nervous, fluttered
manner.] Oh, how do you do ? I am so pleased to
meet you! I've been hearing so much about you
from my husband. [She goes to sofa on the left, and
sits.] It will be so delightful to have a home at last
that is really fit to live in !
[PRINGLE, hearing this, makes a contemptuous
ejaculation to himself.
MR. WACKERBATH,
[To HORACE,] I ought to tell you this is quite an
impromptu little affair. The wife only came up this
THE BRASS BOTTLE 183
morning for a day or two in town, and asked some
old friends of ours to dinner. So I wired to you on
the off-chance of your being free to come and meet
them.
MRS. WACKERBATH.
So kind of you to come on such short notice !
HORACE.
I was delighted.
MRS* WACKERBATH.
[Suddenly realising PRINGLE'S presence; to MR.
WACKERBATH.] But, Samuel, aren't you forgetting to
introduce your other guest ?
HORACE.
[To himself , foreseeing trouble.] Good Lord !
[He goes up , round the table to the glazed
balcony.
MR. WACKERBATH.
[Surprised, to MRS. WACKERBATH.] My other ?
I was not aware [He turns and sees PRINGLE, and
advances to him.] You must excuse me, sir, but I
didn't see you before. I ah haven't the pleasure of
knowing your name at present.
PRINGLE.
[Coming forward.] My name is Pringle. Yours
[meaningly] is quite well known to me, Mr. Wacker-
bath.
1 84 THE BRASS BOTTLE
MR. WACKERBATH.
\Gratified, but not surprised.] Ha! Very good of
you to say so. And I needn't tell you that any friend
of Mr. Ventimore's
PRINGLE.
[Tartly.] I am not here in that capacity, sir. I
am here because I also am expecting friends to dine
with me. And I was certainly given to understand
that this room had been reserved for my own
party.
MRS. WACKERBATH.
[In some distress.] Oh, dear ! I am so sorry, I'm
afraid I'm to blame, I asked the manager for this
room he told me it was engaged^ but he would
arrange for you to have the " Patience" Room
instead,
PRINGLE.
I can only assure you that this is the first I've
heard of it, or else
MRS. WACKERBATH.
[Rising.] I quite thought it would be explained to
you, and I do so hope the change hasn't put you to
any great inconvenience ?
PRINGLE,
[Sourly.] I'm afraid, Mrs. Wackerbath, it has put
my guests to considerable inconvenience, as they
have presumably been shown into the " Patience "
THE BRASS BOTTLE 185
Room, and been waiting there for nearly half an
hour if they haven't already left ! So [making
a movement towards the arcli\ if you will kindly
permit me
HORACE,
[Coming down, and intercepting Mm ; in an under
tone.] You won't find them there, Pringle. They
haven't come. They won't come now, I assure you.
PROFESSOR'S YOICE.
[On left, outside door above arch.] This must be
the room, Sophia I observe " Pinafore " on the
door,
PRINGLE.
[In a triumphant undertone to HORACE, who is
completely staggered.] There ! Who's right now ? I
knew they wouldn't forget !
\He advances to the end of the sofa ~by fire-
place to receive the FUTVOYES, while
HORACE effaces himself so far as possible
in the corner behind the fiower-stand.
HORACE.
[To himself, in despair.} That old fool of a Fakrash !
He's muffed it again !
[The FUTVOYES enter; MRS, FUTVOYE first,
then SYLVIA, and the PROFESSOR bringing
up the rear e
1 86 THE BRASS BOTTLE
PRIXGLE.
[Cheerily, to MRS, FUTVOYE.] Aha !
[His welcome dies away as they all pass on
without seeming to notice any one but MR.
and MRS. WACKERBATH, who advancefrom
the left to receive them. PRINGLE retreats
slightly, and looks on in speechless indig-
nation.
MR. WACKERBATH.
My dear Mrs. Futvoye, delighted to see you
delighted ! [As MRS. FUTVOYE greets MRS. WACKERBATH,
to SYLVIA.] And this smart young woman is my little
god-daughter, eh? How d'ye do, my dear? [To
PROFESSOR.] And how is our excellent Professor ?
[They converse in by-play ; MRS. WACKERBATH
takes MRS. FUTVOYE to sofa on left;
SY-LVIA goes up towards arch to a place
from which she can see neither HORACE nor
PRINGLE.
MRS. WACKERBATH.
[To MRS. FUTVOYE, as they seat themselves^ Dearest
Sophia ! We meet so seldom now !
MRS, FUTVOYE.
We do indeed, Eliza ! [They talk in undertones.
PRINGLE.
[By fireplace, to himself, with the deepest disgust.]
First my room, and then my guests !
THE BRASS BOTTLE 187
MB. WACKERBATH.
[Turning to MRS. FUTVOYE, as the PROFESSOR joins
SYLVIA.] I want to introduce a friend of ours very
rising young fellow [He looks round for HORACE,
and discovers him by the flower-stand.] Ah, there he is
Mr. Ventimore. [HORACE putts himself together and
comes forward, not in the least knowing what reception
to expect .] Mr, Yentimore, Mrs. Anthony Futvoye.
[HORACE bows in considerable anxiety.
MRS* FUTVOYE.
Why, my dear Mr. Wackerbath, we know one
another quite well already ! [To HORACE, laughing.]
Don't we, Horace ?
[HORACE takes her hand with obvious relief.
SYLVIA.
[Coming down smiling, between MR. WACKERBATH
and HORACE.] How are you, Horace ?
[HORACE shakes hands icarmly with her.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Approaching as MR. WACKERBATH turns to his wife
and MRS. FUTVOYE, to HORACE not orer cordially, but
without asperity.] How are you, Ventimore? Curious
we should meet like this ! We were talking about
you on our way here that little dinner of yours, you
know.
HORACE.
[With reviving anxiety.] That little dinner,
Professor ?
188
THE BRASS BOTTLE
SYLVIA.
Yes, Horace, we couldn't remember which night it
is we're dining with you is it to-morrow, or the
night after ]
HORACE.
[Relieved again.'] Oh, it's to-morrow to-morrow !
[PRINGLE has heard all this with a contempt
and disgust that are indicated by his ex-
pression.
SYLVIA.
Then mother was right! I'd fearful misgivings
that it was for last night, and that somehow we'd for-
gotten all about it. Wouldn't that have been too
dreadful of us ?
HORACE,
Oh, I I don't know. I mean I could have
forgiven even that.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Ah, now I think of it [interposing between SYLVIA
and HORACE, and drawing him apart, while SYLVIA
goes up towards the table] did you find time to attend
that sale for me yesterday ?
HORACE.
[Blankly.'] Oh, yes. I attended it.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
We called at your rooms yesterday afternoon, but
THE BRASS BOTTLE 189
you weren't in, so we didn't wait for you. Now tell
me [anxiously] did you get any of those lots for rne,
or didn't you ?
HORACE.
Well, no, I had the most rotten luck.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[ With relief.} It's just as well you didn't just as
well. I doubt now whether I could afford the
money. I find I shall be put to considerable expense
for repairs to my study.
[He turns to MR. WACKERBATH, who is on his
right. SYLVIA comes down, and PRINGLE
advances to greet her, but, finding she
evidently sees no one but HORACE, he goes
up towards the balcony fuming with rage.
SYLVIA*
[To HORACE.] Come and sit down somewhere, and
tell me everything you've been doing.
[HORACE takes her to the sofa by the fireplace,
where they sit down and talk in dumb
show, while PRINGLE is now hanging
about undecidedly near the flower-stand,
waiting his opportunity for addressing
SYLVIA, and furiously jealous at finding
her still too absorbed to notice him ; MRS.
FUTVOYE and MRS. WACKERBATH are
talking confidentially on the sofa on the
left side of the room, and the PROFESSOR
and MR. WACKERBATH are standing in
the centre.
190 THE BRASS BOTTLE
MR. WACKERBATH.
So you and my young friend Ventimore are already
acquainted, eh, Professor ?
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE^
Why, yes. In fact, he's supposed to be engaged to
Sylvia. But, between ourselves, I should feel more
satisfied if there was any prospect of his getting
work.
MR. WACKERBATH.
My dear Futvoye, you needn't be uneasy about
that! Why, this house he's building for me will find
him work enough. He's an able young chap, and I
shouldn't be surprised if he gave me a perfect palace !
PRINGLE.
[Who is near enough to hear this, comes down.]
What, another palace, Mr. Wackerbath ?
MR. WACKERBATH.
[In some astonishment.] Eh? Why, bless my soul,
sir, I thought you'd gone to the " Patience " Room
long ago !
PRINGLE.
[Drily .] I found it wasn't necessary, How are
you, Professor ? [ With the air of a host.] Delighted to
see you.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE,
[Shaking hands perfunctorily.] Oh, how are you, my
boy, how are you ? [Turning his shoulder on PRINGLE,
THE BRASS BOTTLE 191
and continuing to MR. WACKERBATII, as the// go up
together towards the table, ignoring PRINGLE.] Wacker-
bath, about this house of yours ? do I understand
that Ventimore is ?
[They talk in dumb show, and during the next
few speeches the FIRST WAITER enters,
and MR. WACKERBATH gives him an order,
after which the WAITER goes out and re-
turns with two cocktails. The PROFESSOR
sits by the table and MR. WACKERBATH
stands as they drink. PRINGLE mean-
while has returned to the corner of the
flower-stand and is no longer able to con-
trol his temper,
PRINGLE.
[To SYLVIA, with elaborate sarcasm t as he offers his
hand, which she does not see at first.] Good evening,
Miss Sylvia, it's really about time that I reminded
you of my humble existence.
SYLVlA e
[With slightly raised eyebrows, as she shakes hands.]
Oh, how do you do, Mr. Pringle ? I didn't see you
come in.
[HORACE sits by in silence, feeling powerless to
stop PRINGLE at present.
PRINGLE,
[ Unpleasantly.] No, you were so much engaged.
[In a tone of injury.] And I must say I little expected
192 THE BRASS BOTTLE
when I last saw you at Cottesmore Gardens scarcely
seven hours ago !
SYLVIA,
[/Smiling, but surprised.] Seven hours ! It is more
like seven weeks I
PRINGLE.
[Beaming fatuously.} Charming of you to put it in
that way ! I was almost beginning to fear that you
had forgotten [with meaning] our last meeting.
SYLVIA.
[Innocently.] In Vincent Square yesterday after-
noon ? Of course not t / meant since you had been
to see us. And that's ages ago !
PRINGLE.
[Blankly.] Ages ago !
SYLVIA.
[Carelessly.] Oh, you said you'd been away, or
working hard, or something, didn't you ? / forgive
you. And so you are dining with Mr. and Mrs.
Wackerbath, too?
PRINGLE.
[Stiffly.] With Mr, and Mrs. - ! Pardon me,
but I am under the impression that / am to have the
honour of entertaining you.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 193
SYLVIA.
[Rising ; HORACE rising as she does.] Entertaining
us ! Why, what could have made you think that ?
PRINGLE.
[In a low voice.'} And you can throw me over like
this ! After all I've done for you ? Oh, Sylvia !
SYLVIA.
[Coldly.] I don't understand you a bit this evening,
Mr. Pringle. But there may have been some mis-
take. I will go and ask mother about it.
[She crosses to behind the sofa on which MRS.
FUTVOYE is seated, and talks to her in
dumb show, MRS. FUTVOYE appearing sur-
prised by what she hears. Meanwhile :
PRINGLE.
[In a savage undertone to HORACE.] This is your
work ! / see how it is you've made 'em all knuckle
down, somehow !
HORACE.
[Earnestly, in an undertone to him.] It isn't that,
my dear fellow. They've forgotten utterly for-
gotten everything. And so will you if you're a wise
man.
PRINGLE.
They may pretend to forget if they like ! But I'm
hanged if / do !
194 THE BRASS BOTTLE
MRS< FUTVOYE.
[Who has risen, leaving SYLVIA to talk to MRS.
WACKERBATH, now advances to PRINGLE.] What is this
Sylvia tells me, Mr. Pringle ? Surely you haven't
been expecting us to dine with you to-night ?
PRINGLE.
I not only have been, I am t my dear lady.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Then my husband must have [Turning to the
PROFESSOR, who is by the table talking to MR.
WACKERBATH.] Anthony ! [The PROFESSOR comes
down.] Have you accepted an invitation from Mr.
Pringle for to-night without telling me ? How could
you be so forgetful ?
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
My memory has not begun to fail yet, Sophia. [To
PRINGLE.] My dear Pringle, I can only say that I
received no such invitation. We had no engagement
for this evening till Mrs. Wackerbath kindly rang
my wife up this afternoon,
[He takes a chair on the left by MRS. WACKER-
BATH, and talks to her,
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Your invitation must have been lost in the post,
Mr. Pringle.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 195
PBIXGLE.
Hardly, as it happened to be given and accepted
by word of mouth, Mrs. Futvoye. However,
since you seem to have found a subsequent engage-
ment more attractive, I have, of course, no option
but to release you.
MRS. FUTVOYF.
Release us ! But, my dear Mr. Pringle, when we've
assured you
PRINGLF.
[Interrupting her with chilly magnanimity,] Pray
say no more. I quite understand the situation
quite.
[MRS. FUTVOYE rejoins SYLVIA, while MR.
WACKERBATH, who has gradually drawn
nearer -, now comes forward genially.
MR, WACKERBATH.
[To PRINGLE.] I think, sir, we can find a simple
way out of this little difficulty. If you will waive
the point of my being ah personally unknown to
you, and give my wife and myself the pleasure of
joining our little party [the others suppress their
dismay} we shall all be happy.
PRINGLE.
Well, Mr. Wackeibath, if you think it \\ill con-
tribute to the general gaiety, I I don't mind if I do
join your part)'*
196
THE BRASS BOTTLE
MR. WACKERBATH.
[Astonished, and with a touch of hauteur.} H'm !
That's very obliging of you ! [Looking round} Where
are those waiter-fellows ?
[He goes up beyond the arch and beckons ; the
FIRST and SECOND WAITERS come in, and
he explains in dumb shmv that he wants
another cover laid. One waiter rearranges
the chairs, the other brings plate and
glasses. MR. WACKERBATH then seems to
find that the table is too near the balcony,
and orders it to be moved down, which is
done under his instructions.
SYLVIA.
[As MR. WACKERBATH goes up to find the waiters,
to her mother, in an undertone} Mother, what is the
matter with Mr. Pringle? He seems quite quite
odd.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
I can't make him out at all, my dear. He seems
to be offended with us and for no reason that 7
can see.
SYLVIA.
Nor I.
[They continue the conversation in dumb
show, while the PROFESSOR, on a chair, is
talking to MRS. WACKERBATH on the sofa
on the left.
PRINGLE.
[In an undertone to HORACE, as they stand by the
THE BRASS BOTTLE 197
fireplace on the right.] I suppose you know why I've
accepted that fellow's hospitality ?
HORACE,
Not in the least but I hope you don't mean to
abuse it.
PRINGLE.
I mean to show up the lot of you ! I'm going to
be the skeleton at your feast.
HORACE.
" An agreeable rattle," eh ?
PRINGLE B
It's too sickening ! All of 'em grovelling and
cringing to you because they're in a blue funk of that
old Fakrash! You've managed to get him under
control again !
HORACE.
[With much earnestness.] Now, my dear fellow -I'll
explain everything when we're alone. But, for
Heaven's sake, take my advice and keep quiet
here !
PRINGLE,
[Roughly.] I'm not afraid of you, or your Jinnee
either he rather took to me ! And if the Futvoyes
choose to drop me like this, I'm not going to take
it lying down I can make them look pretty
foolish !
198
THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
You'll be the only one to look foolish upon my
honour, you will !
PRINGLE,
We'll see about that! You can't shut my
mouth !
MR, WACKERBATH.
[The WAITERS having gone out, now comes down
and addresses MRS. FUTVOYE.] They tell me we shall
have to wait a few minutes longer but they'll be as
quick as they can.
MRS. WACKERBATH.
Oh, Samuel, the Professor has just been telling me
about such an extraordinary affair that happened this
morning in his own study ! Have you heard ?
[HORACE starts ; PRINGLE prepares to assume
the offensive.
MR. WACKERBATH,
Not a word not a word. What was it, Futvoye ?
Nothing, I hope, of ah an unpleasant nature !
PRINGLE.
[Striking in before the PROFESSOR can reply.] " Un-
pleasant " ? Oh, dear no ! [Coming forward to centre.]
Quite an ordinary occurrence ! Ha-ha !
[General surprise.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[With annoyance.] I don't know why Mr. Pringle
should choose to answer for my husband, [To MR.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 199
WACKERBATH.] We considered it most unpleasant. In
fact, we can only be thankful it was no worse !
PRINGLE*
But are you thankful ? I haven't noticed any signs
of it, so far !
HORACE.
[In his ear,] Shut up, can't you ?
MRS. FUTVOYE.
Really, Mr. Pringle ! [To MR. WACKERBATH.] I was
about to say when Mr, Pringle interrupted me
that my husband found, on going into his study after
lunch this afternoon, that it was completely wrecked.
MR. WACKERBATH.
Wrecked ? You don't say so !
MRS, FUTVOYE.
Everything bookcases, all his ancient glass and
pottery <
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
A valuable mummy ! / / >
MRS, FUTVOYE.
Absolutely smashed to atoms !
MR, WACKERBATH.
Dear me ! How unfortunate ! [To the PROFESSOR.J
And have you any clue to the ah culprit ?
200
THE BRASS BOTTLE
PRINGLE.
[With a wild sardonic laugh.] Ho-ho ! He's no idea
who the ah culprifc is. Have you, Professor ?
{Renewed astonishment.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Glaring at PRINGLE.] I can only surmise. My
theory is that burglars must have broken in during
the night, and that the scoundrels, disgusted at finding
nothing of any value to them, revenged themselves by
doing this irreparable damage.
PRINGLE.
Bravo, Professor ! Does you credit, that theory of
yours ! Most ingenious ! Must have been burglars,
of course ! With gout in all their four legs eh,
Mrs. Futvoye?
[MRS. FUTVOYE regards him with puzzled
HORACE.
[In PRINGLE'S ear.] Will you hold your confounded
tongue !
MRS. WACKERBATH.
[To the PROFESSOR.] The wretches! But what a
mercy that you weren't disturbed !
PRINGLE.
Oh, the Professor wasn't disturbed not he !
" Preserved perfect calm and self-control from first to
last " didn't you, Professor ?
THE BRASS BOTTLE 201
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Acidly.] As I was sound asleep during the whole
business, sir, I presume I did.
PRINGLE.
Ha-ha ! Sound asleep, eh ? But you must have
had a touch of nightmare when / saw you.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
When you ! [Rising and coming towards him]
How and when could you possibly have seen me,
Pringle ?
PRINGLE.
Oh, in your study. When you were lashing out at
everything with your hind legs.
[General sensation ; MRS. WACKERBATH and
MRS. FUTVOYE both rise, and, with SYLVIA,
come somewhat nearer PRINGLE.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
With my hind legs ! . . , D'you know, my dear
Pringle, you're talking rather wildly ?
PRINGLE.
It won't do, Professor, it won't do ! I was there,
remember. And lucky for you I was or you'd be a
wall-eyed mule at this very moment. [Exasperated ly
the FUTVOYES' apparent astonishment.] Oh, it may suit
you to forget it now but you were all three
especially Sylvia grateful enough to me then !
[Increased sensation.
202 THE BRASS BOTTLE
MBS. FUTVOYE.
Grateful to you ? May I ask what for ?
PBJNGLE.
I suppose you won't deny that I was the only one
who could tackle Yentimore's old Jinnee ?
MBS. FUTVOYE.
[In a tone of hopeless bewilderment.] Horace ! Does
he mean that pleasant elderly landlady of yours ?
PBINGLE.
As if you didn't know, Mrs. Futvoye! I mean
the old demon, or whatever he may be, that Yenti-
more let out of that brass bottle.
ALL THE OTHEBS (EXCEPT HOBACE),
[Together."] Brass bottle ! What brass bottle ?
What is he talking about ?
PBINGLE.
I'm talking about the bottle he bought for you at
that auction yesterday, Professor. You can surely
remember that ?
PBOFESSOB FUTVOYE.
I certainly did ask him to attend a sale. [Approach-
ing HOBACE.] But I understood you to say just now,
Yentimore, that you bought nothing for me ?
THE BRASS BOTTLE 203
HORACE.
That is so, Professor. As I told you, I was un-
lucky.
MR. WACKERBATH.
[Regarding PRINGLE with dignified displeasure.] You
seem to me, sir, to be endeavouring to be ah
facetious.
PRINGLE.
[Turning on him.] No more facetious, Mr.
Wackerbath, than you were when I saw you this
morning in Yentimore's office.
MR. WACKERBATH.
I didn't go to Mr. Yentimore's office. I entirely
forgot the appointment an unusual thing for me.
PRINGLE.
Oh, no. You did an even more unusual thing.
You were there running about on all fours, and
yelping like a dog 1
MR. WACKERBATH.
[Hardly believing his own ears.] Running about on
all fours ! Yelping like a dog ! Me ? Me !
PRINGLE,
Yes, you. The Jinnee made you do it, if you
remember, because you declined to live in that palace
he built for you in a single night. And you didn't
204 THE BRASS BOTTLE
seem to like the idea of having to cross Westminster
Bridge on all fours !
MR. WACKEBBATH.
[With dignity.] I'm afraid, sir, that when you
accepted my invitation just now, you overlooked the
fact that you had been dining already.
PRINGLE.
I haven't dined since last night in that Arabian
hall of Ventimore's, with black slaves to wait, and
dancing-girls. Professor, don't pretend you've for-
gotten those dancing-girls !
[Everybody speechless with indignation and
surprise, except the PROFESSOR, who comes
towa/rds him with concern.
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
[Soothingly, to PRINGLE.] There, there you mustn't
get excited about it. {He turns, and takes MR.
WACKERBATH aside.] It's not what you think. Poor
fellow ! His only excess is overwork. [Turning to
PRINGLE again.} Now, now, Pringle, my dear fellow,
you're not not quite yourself, you know not quite
yourself 7 Take my advice and go quietly home,
and ask your doctor to come and have a look at
you.
PRINGLE.
[Staggered.] So so you're trying to make out now
that that I'm mad, are you ?
THE BRASS BOTTLE 205
PROFESSOR FUTVOYE.
Mad ? No, no only a little out of sorts. You've
been working rather too hard, you know, that's all !
All you want is a thorough rest,
MR, WACKERBATH,
Yes, yes. A sea- voyage, now. Trip round the
world. Set you up in no time !
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[Approaching PRINGLE.] Do go round the world,
Mr. Pringle. You'll come back cured of all these
fancies !
PRINGLE,
[Reeling back a step or two.] Fancies ! , , . Venti-
more ! [HORACE goes to him, while the others form a
group on the left and discuss PRINGLE'S case with
pitying concern] I've been a fool I see that now.
They're not pretending they really have forgotten !
HORACE,
Completely. Fakrash hasn't foozled that for a
wonder ! I ought to have included you ; but well,
one can't think of everything I forgot. I can only
say I'm sorry,
PRINGLE.
But they all think I'm mad ! \He sinks on the sofa
by fireplace] You know I'm not that I [With sudden
doubt.} Am I ?
206
THE BRASS BOTTLE
HORACE.
[Patting him on the shoulder.] Not a bit, my dear
fellow, you're as sane as I am.
PRINGLE.
[With relief.] I knew I was ! But tell 'em so tell
'em it's all true !
HORACE,
I can't. They'd only think / was mad, too.
PRINGLE.
[In despair.] But you must get me out of this
somehow, or I shall be ruined ! Who'd employ a
mad architect ?
HORACE.
[Reflecting.] I'll get you out of it, if I can. But I
shall have to stretch the truth a bit, so mind you
back up everything I say.
I will I will !
PRINGLE.
I'll say anything, do anything !
HORACE.
Then here goes ! [He turns to the others, and comes
towards centre.] Oh, er Mrs. Wackerbath [the others
break off their conversation and listen to him] I've
found out what's the matter with Mr, Pringle, and
I know you'll all be glad to hear that it's nothing
serious. [Murmur of sympathetic relief from the others.]
It seems he's been spending the afternoon with his
dentist, and [turning to PRINGLE] was it two or
three back teeth you had out, Pringle ?
THE BRASS BOTTLE 207
PRINGLE.
[Sullenly e ] One. Only one.
HOEACE.
[To the others.] Only one. But under an anaesthetic.
[To PRINGLE, as before.] Nitrous oxide, Pringle, or
ether ?
PRINGLE.
I can't say I didn't inquire.
HORACE.
[To the others.] Naturally he wouldn't inquire.
But well, you know what ef I mean, anaesthetics
are!
ALL (EXCEPT PRINGLE).
To be sure ! Yes, yes. Of course !
HORACE.
They give you the queerest dreams. And, just
before, as it happens, Mr. Pringle had been reading
"The Arabian Nights." [^o PRINGLE.] You did say
" The Arabian Nights," didn't you ?
PRINGLE.
" The Arabian Nights " yes. I read it regularly.
HORACE.
[To the others, airily.] Which probably accounts
for his dreams. And, in some exceptional cases, the
Efreets 1 mean, the effects don't go off altogether
208 THE BRASS BOTTLE
for hours after the operation. Mr. Pringle thinks
he can't have been thoroughly awake
PRINGLE.
[Rising.] But I am now I am noiv !
HORACE.
Oh, he is now quite serious and sensible, and
generally himself again.
[A general murmur of polite satisfaction.
MR. WACKERBATH.
[Advancing towards PRINGLE.] I'm sure I'm very
pleased to hear it, Mr. Pringle! Especially as it
permits us to hope that we may still have the ah
pleasure of your company,
[The others echo this sentiment in a somewhat
half-hearted manner.
PRINGLE.
You're extremely kind but I think perhaps I
shall be better at home.
MRS. FUTVOYE.
[In a motherly tone.] I'm sure you will, dear Mr.
Pringle, What you ought to do is to go to bed and
get a good night's sleep.
MR. WACKERBATH.
[Obviously relieved*] Ah, well, I won't insist I
THE BRASS BOTTLE 209
won't insist. Perhaps you will give us some other
evening ?
PRINGLE.
[ With extreme stiffness.] I'm obliged to you but I
dine out very seldom. Good -night. [He crosses to
MRS. FUTVOYE and shakes hands with her, and bows to
MR. and MRS. WACKERBATH, after which MR.
WACKERBATH takes MRS. FUTVOYE up to the glazed
balcony to see the river, which by this time is in bright
moonlight, the PROFESSOR, after having said good-night
to PRINGLE, following with MRS. WACKERBATH.
PRINGLE then turns to SYLVIA, who is standing on the
extreme left.] Good-night, Miss Sylvia. May I offer
my congratulations ? I can only hope that you may
be as happy as happy as as possible.
[Faint waltz music is heard from the
restaurant.
SYLVIA.
[Quietly.] Thanks so much, Mr. Pringle, I think I
shall. [Giving him her hand.] Good-night.
[She goes up and joins the group in the glazed
balcony,
PRINGLF,
Good-night. [He turns to HORACE.] One moment,
Yentimore !
HORACE.
Oh, I'm coming to the door with you, old fellow.
[He is about to go up with him t when PRINOLB
detains him.
210
THE BRASS BOTTLE
PRINGLE.
I only wanted to ask you this. [Lowering his voice.]
Where is that Jinnee of yours now ?
HORACE.
[/Standing by the sofa by fireplace.] Well, do you see
that patch of silver on the water just above the
bridge [pointing to the left] where they're all
looking ?
PRINGLE.
Yes, I see that. What about it ?
HORACE,
Only that, somewhere under that patch, old
Fakrash is lying, snugly curled up inside his bottle.
PRINGLE,.
[Incredulously ',] What!
HORACE.
I happen to know, because I dropped it there
myself this afternoon inside a kit-bag.
PRINGLE.
Well, I must say I'm glad you've got rid of him.
And er you can rely on me to keep quiet about
it for the future.
HORACE.
[Drily ,] My dear chap, I feel sure I can.
THE BRASS BOTTLE 211
PBINGLE.
[Going up to the door on right above the arch.]
Good-night. [Disconsolately '.] I shall go and get some-
thing to eat at an " A.B,C."
HORACE.
[Going up with him.] Good-night, old fellow. It's
rough on you, but I did my best /
PBINGLE,
[Turning on him with resentment.] You needn't
have told 'em I'd had three teeth out ! Good-night.
[ffe goes out, HORACE closing the door after
him. Waltz music from restaurant on
right. After he has gone, MR. WACKER-
BATH and the others turn from the river
as the SECOND WAITER enters and places
a slice of melon on each plate.
MR. WACKERBATH.
Oh, ready, eh ? [The FIRST WAITER enters and inti-
mates that dinner is served.] Then shall we sit down,
Mrs. Futvoye ? [ffe goes to the chair at the top of the
table with his back to the balcony , and places MRS, FUT-
VOYE on his right.] Professor [as MRS. WACKERBATH
takes the chair at the bottom of the table, facing the
river] on my wife's left, please. Sylvia, my dear,
next to me. [SYLVIA takes the chair on MR. WACKER-
BATH'S left; HORACE still standing.] And you, Mr.
Ventimore [Observing that there are two places.]
Stay, there's something wrong. Oh, of course ! [To
212 THE BRASS BOTTLE
the FIRST WAITER.] Take away that chair, it won't be
wanted now the other gentleman has gone.
FIRST WAITER.
Gone ! De gentleman vat give so moch trouble ?
He vill not come back ?
MR. WACKERBATH.
Come back ? [To HORACE.] You don't think your
friend is likely to do that, eh, Mr. Yentimore ?
SYLVIA.
Oh, I hope not ! [The others assent fervently .
HORACE,
[Pausing in the act of taking the sixth chair.] It's
all right. My friend [with a glance at the bridge on
the left] the gentleman who gave so much trouble, is
[with a slow smile of deep satisfaction] not in the
least likely to come back !
[He sits down by SYLVIA as another and a
louder burst of waltz music is heard from
the restaurant and the curtain falls.
THE END.
PRINTED BY
BALLANTYNE & COMPANY LTD
AT THE BALLANTYNE PRESS
TAVISTOCK STREET COVENT GARDEN
LONDON
PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET
UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY
PR
Guthrie Thomas Anstey
The brass bottle
G5B7
1911
