The Brass Bottle: A Farcical Fantastic Play in Four Acts

Oh, we know him, yes. As you do, it seems.

Pringle

I sublet a room in my offices to him. Rather a good arrangement for him, because he gets experience by looking after any little matters that I've no time to attend to.

Sylvia

[With suppressed resentment.] And isn't that rather a good arrangement for you?

Pringle

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 Hieroglyphical 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 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 can't 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! [He rises excitedly.] And he might – he 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 stick.] 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?

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?