[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 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.
Pringle.
Good-night. [He turns to Horace.] One moment, Ventimore!
Horace.
Oh, I'm coming to the door with you, old fellow.
[He is about to go up with him, when Pringle detains him.
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.
Pringle.
[Going up to the door on right above the arch.] Good-night. [Disconsolately.] I shall go and get something 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!
Pringle.
[Turning on him with resentment.] You needn't have told 'em I'd had three teeth out! Good-night.
[He goes out, Horace closing the door after him. Waltz music from restaurant on right. After he has gone, Mr. Wackerbath 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 intimates that dinner is served.] Then shall we sit down, Mrs. Futvoye? [He goes to the chair at the top of the table with his back to the balcony, and places Mrs. Futvoye 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. Wackerbath's left; Horace still standing.] And you, Mr. Ventimore——[Observing that there are two places.] Stay, there's something wrong. Oh, of course! [To 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. Ventimore?
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.
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