records," said Horace. "And you may be
glad to know that your old enemy, Mr. Jarjarees, came to a violent end,
after a very sporting encounter with a King's daughter, who, though
proficient in advanced magic, unfortunately perished herself, poor lady,
in the final round."

"I had intended _thee_ to accomplish his downfall," said Fakrash.

"I know," said Horace. "It was most thoughtful of you. But I doubt if I
should have done it half as well--and it would have probably cost me an
eye, at the very least. It's better as it is."

"And how long hast thou known of these things?"

"Only since last night."

"Since last night? And thou didst not unfold them unto me till this
instant?"

"I've had such a busy morning, you see," explained Horace. "There's been
no time."

"Silly-bearded fool that I was to bring this misbegotten dog into the
august presence of the great Lord Mayor himself (on whom be peace!),"
cried the Jinnee.

"I object to being referred to as a misbegotten dog," said Horace, "but
with the rest of your remark I entirely concur. I'm afraid the Lord
Mayor is very far from being at peace just now." He pointed to the steep
roof of the Guildhall, with its dormers and fretted pinnacles, and the
slender lantern through which he had so lately made his inglorious exit.
"There's the devil of a row going on under that lantern just now, Mr.
Fakrash, you may depend upon that. They've locked the doors till they
can decide what to do next--which will take them some time. And it's all
your fault!"

"It was thy doing. Why didst thou dare to inform the Lord Mayor that he
was deceived?"

"Why? Because I thought he ought to know. Because I was bound,
particularly after my oath of allegiance, to warn him of any conspiracy
against him. Because I was in such a hat. He'll understand all that--he
won't blame _me_ for this business."

"It is fortunate," observed the Jinnee, "that I flew away with thee
before thou couldst pronounce my name."

"You gave yourself away," said Horace. "They all saw you, you know. You
weren't flying so particularly fast. They'll recognise you again. If you
_will_ carry off a man from under the Lord Mayor's very nose, and shoot
up through the roof like a rocket with him, you can't expect to escape
some notice. You see, you happen to be the only unbottled Jinnee in this
City."

Fakrash shifted his seat on the cornice. "I have committed no act of
disrespect unto the Lord Mayor," he said, "therefo