Part 33 (2/2)
”That,” replied the Jinnee, ”is the very reason why I purpose to destroy thee!”
”Oh!” was all Horace could find to say at this most unlooked-for answer.
His sheet anchor, in which he had trusted implicitly, had suddenly dragged--and he was drifting fast to destruction.
”Are there any other questions which thou wouldst ask?” inquired the Jinnee, with grim indulgence; ”or wilt thou encounter thy doom without further procrastination?”
Horace was determined not to give in just yet; he had a very bad hand, but he might as well play the game out and trust to luck to gain a stray trick.
”I haven't nearly done yet,” he said. ”And, remember, you've promised to answer me--in the name of the Lord Mayor!”
”I will answer one other question, and no more,” said the Jinnee, in an inflexible tone; and Ventimore realised that his fate would depend upon what he said next.
CHAPTER XVIII
A GAME OF BLUFF
”Thy second question, O pertinacious one?” said the Jinnee, impatiently.
He was standing with folded arms looking down on Horace, who was still seated on the narrow cornice, not daring to glance below again, lest he should lose his head altogether.
”I'm coming to it,” said Ventimore; ”I want to know why you should propose to dash me to pieces in this barbarous way as a return for letting you out of that bottle. Were you so comfortable in it as all that?”
”In the bottle I was at least suffered to rest, and none molested me.
But in releasing me thou didst perfidiously conceal from me that Suleyman was dead and gone, and that there reigneth one in his stead mightier a thousand-fold, who afflicteth our race with labours and tortures exceeding all the punishments of Suleyman.”
”What on earth have you got into your head now? You can't mean the Lord Mayor?”
”Whom else?” said the Jinnee, solemnly. ”And though, for this once, by a device I have evaded his vengeance, yet do I know full well that either by virtue of the magic jewel upon his breast, or through that malignant monster with the myriad ears and eyes and tongues, which thou callest 'The Press,' I shall inevitably fall into his power before long.”
For the life of him, in spite of his desperate plight, Horace could not help laughing. ”I beg your pardon, Mr. Fakrash,” he said, as soon as he could speak, ”but--the Lord Mayor! It's really too absurd. Why, he wouldn't hurt a hair on a fly's head!”
”Seek not to deceive me further!” said Fakrash, furiously. ”Didst thou not inform me with thy own mouth that the spirits of Earth, Air, Water, and Fire were subject to his will? Have I no eyes? Do I not behold from here the labours of my captive brethren? What are those on yonder bridges but enslaved Jinn, shrieking and groaning in clanking fetters, and snorting forth steam, as they drag their wheeled burdens behind them? Are there not others toiling, with panting efforts, through the sluggish waters; others again, imprisoned in lofty pillars, from which the smoke of their breath ascendeth even unto Heaven? Doth not the air throb and quiver with their restless struggles as they writhe below in darkness and torment? And thou hast the shamelessness to pretend that these things are done in the Lord Mayor's own realms without his knowledge! Verily thou must take me for a fool!”
”After all,” reflected Ventimore, ”if he chooses to consider that railway engines and steamers, and machinery generally, are inhabited by so many Jinn 'doing time,' it's not to my interest to undeceive him--indeed, it's quite the contrary!”
”I wasn't aware the Lord Mayor had so much power as all that,” he said; ”but very likely you're right. And if you're so anxious to keep in favour with him, it would be a great mistake to kill me. That _would_ annoy him.”
”Not so,” said the Jinnee, ”for I should declare that thou hadst spoken slightingly of him in my hearing, and that I had slain thee on that account.”
”Your proper course,” said Horace, ”would be to hand me over to him, and let _him_ deal with the case. Much more regular.”
”That may be,” said Fakrash; ”but I have conceived so bitter a hatred to thee by reason of thy insolence and treachery, that I cannot forego the delight of slaying thee with my own hand.”
”Can't you really?” said Horace, on the verge of despair. ”And _then_, what will you do?”
”Then,” replied the Jinnee, ”I shall flee away to Arabia, where I shall be safe.”
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