The attic was searched, to prevent mistakes, but quite vainly.
“The best thing we can do,” said Cyril, “is to go through the half Amulet straight away, get the whole Amulet, and come back.”
“I don’t know,” Anthea hesitated. “Would that be quite fair? Perhaps he isn’t really a base deceiver. Perhaps something’s happened to him.”
“Happened?” said Cyril, “not it! Besides, what could happen?”
“I don’t know,” said Anthea. “Perhaps burglars came in the night, and accidentally killed him, and took away the—all that was mortal of him, you know—to avoid discovery.”
“Or perhaps,” said Cyril, “they hid the—all that was mortal, in one of those big trunks in the box-room. Shall we go back and look?” he added grimly.
“No, no!” Jane shuddered. “Let’s go and tell the Psammead and see what it says.”
“No,” said Anthea, “let’s ask the learned gentleman. If anything has happened to Rekh-marā a gentleman’s advice would be more useful than a Psammead’s. And the learned gentleman’ll only think it’s a dream, like he always does.”
They tapped at the door, and on the “Come in” entered. The learned gentleman was sitting in front of his untasted breakfast. Opposite him, in the easy chair, sat Rekh-marā!
“Hush!” said the learned gentleman very earnestly, “please, hush! or the dream will go. I am learning... Oh, what have I not learned in the last hour!”