“Don’t sit so near that nasty fountain,” said the creature crossly; “I might get splashed.”
Anthea obediently moved to another seat and waited. Indeed she waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited. The Psammead dropped into an uneasy slumber. Anthea had long ceased to watch the swing-door that always let out the wrong person, and she was herself almost asleep, and still the others did not come back.
It was quite a start when Anthea suddenly realized that they had come back, and that they were not alone. Behind them was quite a crowd of men in uniform, and several gentlemen were there. Everyone seemed very angry.
“Now go,” said the nicest of the angry gentlemen. “Take the poor, demented thing home and tell your parents she ought to be properly looked after.”
“If you can’t get her to go we must send for the police,” said the nastiest gentleman.
“But we don’t wish to use harsh measures,” added the nice one, who was really very nice indeed, and seemed to be over all the others.
“May I speak to my sister a moment first?” asked Robert.
The nicest gentleman nodded, and the officials stood round the Queen, the others forming a sort of guard while Robert crossed over to Anthea.
“Everything you can think of,” he replied to Anthea’s glance of inquiry. “Kicked up the most frightful shine in there. Said those necklaces and earrings and things in the glass cases were all hers—would have them out of the cases. Tried to break the glass—she did break one bit! Everybody in the place has been at her. No good. I only got her out by telling her that was the place where they cut queens’ heads off.”
“Oh, Bobs, what a whacker!”