er till she, the woman, and the basket
were lost in the many-coloured crowd. Then Anthea turned once more to
the palace's magnificent doorway and said--
'Let's ask the porter to take care of our Babylonian overcoats.'
So they took off the garments that the woman had lent them and stood
amid the jostling petitioners of the Queen in their own English frocks
and coats and hats and boots.
'We want to see the Queen,' said Cyril; 'we come from the far Empire
where the sun never sets!'
A murmur of surprise and a thrill of excitement ran through the crowd.
The door-porter spoke to a black man, he spoke to someone else. There
was a whispering, waiting pause. Then a big man, with a cleanly-shaven
face, beckoned them from the top of a flight of red marble steps.
They went up; the boots of Robert clattering more than usual because he
was so nervous. A door swung open, a curtain was drawn back. A double
line of bowing forms in gorgeous raiment formed a lane that led to the
steps of the throne, and as the children advanced hurriedly there came
from the throne a voice very sweet and kind.
'Three children from the land where the sun never sets! Let them draw
hither without fear.'
In another minute they were kneeling at the throne's foot, saying,
'O Queen, live for ever!' exactly as the woman had taught them. And a
splendid dream-lady, all gold and silver and jewels and snowy drift of
veils, was raising Anthea, and saying--
'Don't be frightened, I really am SO glad you came! The land where
the sun never sets! I am delighted to see you! I was getting quite too
dreadfully bored for anything!'
And behind Anthea the kneeling Cyril whispered in the ears of the
respectful Robert--
'Bobs, don't say anything to Panther. It's no use upsetting her, but we
didn't ask for Jane's address, and the Psammead's with her.'
'Well,' whispered Robert, 'the charm can bring them to us at any moment.
IT said so.'
'Oh, yes,' whispered Cyril, in miserable derision, 'WE'RE all right, of
course. So we are! Oh, yes! If we'd only GOT the charm.'
Then Robert saw, and he murmured, 'Crikey!' at the foot of the throne of
Babylon; while Cyril hoarsely whispered the plain English fact--
'Jane's got the charm round her neck, you silly cuckoo.'
'Crikey!' Robert repeated in heart-broken undertones.
CHAPTER 7. 'THE DEEPEST DUNGEON BELOW THE CASTLE MOAT'
The Queen threw three of the red and gold embroidered cushions off the
throne on t
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