The Brass Bottle: A Farcical Fantastic Play in Four Acts

Very dusty! [Wipes his hand after touching the bottle.] And you gave a sovereign for this, Ventimore, eh? H'm! Dear me!

Sylvia

It may look better when it's had a good scrubbing.

Mrs. Futvoye

Scrubbing, my dear! It will have to be scraped first!

Horace

Yes – looks as if it had been dragged up from the bottom of the sea, doesn't it? I've an idea it may be worth something. I should like to have your opinion, Professor.

    [He smiles uneasily.

Professor Futvoye

[After a glance at it.] My opinion is that you might just as well have flung your sovereign into the gutter!

Horace

I admit it was speculative – but it may turn out a winner. It's rather odd it should be so tightly sealed up.

Professor Futvoye

[With more interest.] Sealed up, is it? [Coming down and looking at it more carefully.] H'm – the form is certainly antique. It's wonderful what they can do in Birmingham!

Horace

I really think it may have something inside it. It's not so very heavy, and yet – [tapping it] – it doesn't sound quite as if it were empty.

Professor Futvoye

It might contain something. I think it most unlikely – but still, it might.

Sylvia

[Laughing.] You don't mean it might be like that jar the Fisherman found in "The Arabian Nights," with a Genius inside it?

Professor Futvoye

I did not mean anything so frivolous, my dear. And, if you must quote "The Arabian Nights," it's as well to remember in future that the more correct term is not "Genius," but "Jinnee." Singular, Jinnee – plural, Jinn.

Sylvia

I'll remember, dear. Singular, Jinn – plural, Jinnies.

Professor Futvoye

[Instructively.] A name applied by Arab mythology to a race of aerial beings, created of the flame of fire, but capable of assuming human form and exercising supernatural powers.

Sylvia

Oh, do let's open it now and see what is inside!

Professor Futvoye

Don't be childish, Sylvia, don't be childish! We've no time now for idle curiosity. If we're to dress and be back here by eight o'clock, we ought to start at once. [Mrs. Futvoye prepares to go and moves towards door.] Good-bye, then, Ventimore, for the present. [He gets his hat and stick.] It is not to be an elaborate entertainment, I trust? A simple ordinary little dinner is all I require.

Horace

[As he opens the door for Mrs. Futvoye.] I've tried to remember your tastes, Professor.

Professor Futvoye

I hope you have succeeded. Good-bye, Pringle. Very glad to have run across you again. Let us see more of you in future.

Pringle

[Going to the door with him.] You shall, Professor, you shall. [Following Professor and Mrs. Futvoye out to landing.] By the way, are you likely to be in next – ?

    [Horace closes door, leaving Sylvia still looking at the bottle.

Sylvia

[Turning as he comes down to her.] I'm certain there must be something inside that jar. And if it's anything really interesting, father will be so frightfully pleased that he won't be disagreeable all the evening!

Horace

[Ruefully.] Ah, I'm afraid that's too much to look forward to.

Sylvia

[Touching his arm with a little gesture of sympathy.] You poor dear! You're not beginning to be nervous about your dinner, are you?

Horace

N – no. Not nervous exactly. Something might go wrong. Still, I hope there won't be much your father can find fault with.

Sylvia

I'm sure there won't! And if he does, why, we won't mind, will we? We shall be together, you know!

Horace

[Putting his arm round her.] That's what I've been thinking of all day!

    [He kisses her as Pringle returns, unseen by them. His jaw drops as he sees them together.