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Updated: June 16, 2025
It had always been a dream of mine that it might fall to my lot to present some distinguished fellow-countryman with the freedom of the City. By some curious chance, when the opportunity seemed about to occur, the thing was put off and I missed it missed it by the nearest hair-breadth!" "Ah, well, Sir Lawrence," said Ventimore, "one can't have everything!"
Some days passed, every working hour of which was spent by Horace in the rapture of creation. To every man with the soul of an artist in him there comes at times only too seldom in most cases a revelation of latent power that he had not dared to hope for. And now with Ventimore years of study and theorising which he had often been tempted to think wasted began to bear golden fruit.
"Ventimore, to be sure!" he put his hand in his pocket and produced a card: "Yes, it's all quite correct: I see I have the name here. And an architect, Mr. Ventimore, so I I am given to understand, of immense ability." "I'm afraid I can't claim to be that," said Horace, "but I may call myself fairly competent." "Competent? Why, of course you're competent.
I am indebted to thee for reminding me thereof." "Not at all," said Ventimore. "I shall be delighted to come and seal you up comfortably myself." "Again thou speakest folly," exclaimed the Jinnee. "How canst thou seal me up after I have dashed thee into a thousand pieces?" "That," said Horace, with all the urbanity he could command, "is precisely the difficulty I was trying to convey."
"I'm sure," said his wife, "Horace managed to make himself quite comfortable enough as it was. He has the most delightful rooms in Vincent Square." Ventimore heard her remark to Sir Lawrence: "I shall never forget the first time we dined there, just after my daughter and he were engaged.
Horace was feeling particularly happy as he walked back the next evening to Vincent Square. He had the consciousness of having done a good day's work, for the sketch-plans for Mr. Wackerbath's mansion were actually completed and despatched to his business address, while Ventimore now felt a comfortable assurance that his designs would more than satisfy his client.
Ventimore," said the Chief Magistrate, cordially, as he pressed Horace's hand, "you must allow me to say that I consider this one of the greatest privileges if not the greatest privilege that have fallen to my lot during a term of office in which I have had the honour of welcoming more than the usual number of illustrious visitors."
If on that Saturday afternoon there was a happier man than Horace Ventimore, he would have done well to dissemble his felicity, for fear of incurring the jealousy of the high gods. When Mrs. Futvoye returned, as she did only too soon, to find her daughter and Horace seated on the same sofa, she did not pretend to be gratified.
Ventimore had done his best, and failed; there was no reason now why he should stay a moment longer and yet he sat on, from sheer fatigue and disinclination to move. "Now we come to Lot 254, gentlemen," he heard the auctioneer saying, mechanically; "a capital Egyptian mummy-case in fine con No, I beg pardon, I'm wrong.
"Heaven help us both!" groaned Ventimore. "If I could only see the right thing to do. Look here, Mr. Fakrash," he added, "this is a matter that requires consideration. Will you relieve us of your presence for a short time, while we talk it over?" "With all my heart," said the Jinnee, in the most obliging manner in the world, and vanished instantly.
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