“Now,” said he, “I’m fit to be seen. Come along?”
“Where to?” said Jane cautiously.
“To Pheles, the great sea-captain, said the skipper, “the man I told you of, who loves barbarians.”
Then Rekh-marā came forward, and, for the first time, spoke.
“I have known these children in another land,” he said. “You know my powers of magic. It was my magic that brought these barbarians to your boat. And you know how they will profit you. I read your thoughts. Let me come with you and see the end of them, and then I will work the spell I promised you in return for the little experience you have so kindly given me on your boat.”
The skipper looked at the Egyptian with some disfavour.
“So it was your doing,” he said. “I might have guessed it. Well, come on.”
So he came, and the girls wished he hadn’t. But Robert whispered—
“Nonsense—as long as he’s with us we’ve got some chance of the Amulet. We can always fly if anything goes wrong.”
The morning was so fresh and bright; their breakfast had been so good and so unusual; they had actually seen the Amulet round the Egyptian’s neck. One or two, or all these things, suddenly raised the children’s spirits. They went off quite cheerfully through the city gate—it was not arched, but roofed over with a great flat stone—and so through the street, which smelt horribly of fish and garlic and a thousand other things even less agreeable. But far worse than the street scents was the scent of the factory, where the skipper called in to sell his night’s catch. I wish I could tell you all about that factory, but I haven’t time, and perhaps after all you aren’t interested in dyeing works. I will only mention that Robert was triumphantly proved to be right. The dye was a yellowish-white liquid of a creamy consistency, and it smelt more strongly of garlic than garlic itself does.