Part 29 (1/2)

”That's better still. Then, if I don't see her within twenty-four hours, I am to be at liberty to infer that the negotiations are off, and I may marry anybody else I please, without any opposition from you? Is that understood?”

”It is agreed,” said Fakrash, ”for I am confident that Bedeea will accept thee joyfully.”

”We shall see,” said Horace. ”But it might be as well if you went and prepared her a little. I suppose you know where to find her--and you've only twenty-four hours, you know.”

”More than is needed,” answered the Jinnee, with such childlike confidence, that Horace felt almost ashamed of so easy a victory. ”But the sun is already high. Arise, my son, put on these robes”--and with this he flung on the bed the magnificent raiment which Ventimore had last worn on the night of his disastrous entertainment--”and when thou hast broken thy fast, prepare to accompany me.”

”Before I agree to that,” said Horace, sitting up in bed, ”I should like to know where you're taking me to.”

”Obey me without demur,” said Fakrash, ”or thou knowest the consequences.”

It seemed to Horace that it was as well to humour him, and he got up accordingly, washed and shaved, and, putting on his dazzling robe of cloth-of-gold thickly sewn with gems, he joined Fakrash--who, by the way, was similarly, if less gorgeously, arrayed--in the sitting-room, in a state of some mystification.

”Eat quickly,” commanded the Jinnee, ”for the time is short.” And Horace, after hastily disposing of a cold poached egg and a cup of coffee, happened to go to the windows.

”Good Heavens!” he cried. ”What does all this mean?”

He might well ask. On the opposite side of the road, by the railings of the square, a large crowd had collected, all staring at the house in eager expectation. As they caught sight of him they raised a cheer, which caused him to retreat in confusion, but not before he had seen a great golden chariot with six magnificent coal-black horses, and a suite of swarthy attendants in barbaric liveries, standing by the pavement below. ”Whose carriage is that?” he asked.

”It belongs to thee,” said the Jinnee; ”descend then, and make thy progress in it through the City.”

”I will not,” said Horace. ”Even to oblige you I simply can't drive along the streets in a thing like the band-chariot of a travelling circus.”

”It is necessary,” declared Fakrash. ”Must I again recall to thee the penalty of disobedience?”

”Oh, very well,” said Horace, irritably. ”If you insist on my making a fool of myself, I suppose I must. But where am I to drive, and why?”

”That,” replied Fakrash, ”thou shalt discover at the fitting moment.”

And so, amidst the shouts of the spectators, Ventimore climbed up into the strange-looking vehicle, while the Jinnee took his seat by his side.

Horace had a parting glimpse of Mr. and Mrs. Rapkin's respective noses flattened against the bas.e.m.e.nt window, and then two dusky slaves mounted to a seat at the back of the chariot, and the horses started off at a stately trot in the direction of Rochester Row.

”I think you might tell me what all this means,” he said. ”You've no conception what an a.s.s I feel, stuck up here like this!”

”Dismiss bashfulness from thee, since all this is designed to render thee more acceptable in the eyes of the Princess Bedeea,” said the Jinnee.

Horace said no more, though he could not but think that this parade would be thrown away.

But as they turned into Victoria Street and seemed to be heading straight for the Abbey, a horrible thought occurred to him. After all, his only authority for the marriage and decease of Bedeea was the ”Arabian Nights,” which was not unimpeachable evidence. What if she were alive and waiting for the arrival of the bridegroom? No one but Fakrash would have conceived such an idea as marrying him to a Jinneeyeh in Westminster Abbey; but he was capable of any extravagance, and there were apparently no limits to his power.

”Mr. Fakrash,” he said hoa.r.s.ely, ”surely this isn't my--my wedding day?

You're not going to have the ceremony _there_?”

”Nay,” said the Jinnee, ”be not impatient. For this edifice would be totally unfitted for the celebration of such nuptials as thine.”

As he spoke, the chariot left the Abbey on the right and turned down the Embankment. The relief was so intense that Horace's spirits rose irrepressibly. It was absurd to suppose that even Fakrash could have arranged the ceremony in so short a time. He was merely being taken for a drive, and fortunately his best friends could not recognise him in his Oriental disguise. And it was a glorious morning, with a touch of frost in the air and a sky of streaky turquoise and pale golden clouds; the broad river glittered in the suns.h.i.+ne; the pavements were lined with admiring crowds, and the carriage rolled on amidst frantic enthusiasm, like some triumphal car.

”How they're cheering us!” said Horace. ”Why, they couldn't make more row for the Lord Mayor himself.”

”What is this Lord Mayor of whom thou speakest?” inquired Fakrash.