Jane found them hard to describe.
“But Robert has a toy one in his pocket,” she said. So the others were recalled.
The boys explained the pistol to Caesar very fully, and he looked at it with the greatest interest. It was a two-shilling pistol, the one that had done such good service in the old Egyptian village.
“I shall cause guns to be made,” said Caesar, “and you will be detained till I know whether you have spoken the truth. I had just decided that Britain was not worth the bother of invading. But what you tell me decides me that it is very much worth while.”
“But it’s all nonsense,” said Anthea. “Britain is just a savage sort of island—all fogs and trees and big rivers. But the people are kind. We know a little girl there named Imogen. And it’s no use your making guns because you can’t fire them without gunpowder, and that won’t be invented for hundreds of years, and we don’t know how to make it, and we can’t tell you. Do go straight home, dear Caesar, and let poor little Britain alone.”
“But this other girl-child says—” said Caesar.
“All Jane’s been telling you is what it’s going to be,” Anthea interrupted, “hundreds and hundreds of years from now.”
“The little one is a prophetess, eh?” said Caesar, with a whimsical look. “Rather young for the business, isn’t she?”
“You can call her a prophetess if you like,” said Cyril, “but what Anthea says is true.”
“Anthea?” said Caesar. “That’s a Greek name.”