“In the grey dawn,” said the Priest, “I left my hiding-place, and finding myself among these treasures from my own country, I remained. I feel more at home here somehow.”
“Of course I know it’s a dream,” said the learned gentleman feverishly, “but, oh, ye gods! what a dream! By Jove!...”
“Call not upon the gods,” said the Priest, “lest ye raise greater ones than ye can control. Already,” he explained to the children, “he and I are as brothers, and his welfare is dear to me as my own.”
“He has told me,” the learned gentleman began, but Robert interrupted. This was no moment for manners.
“Have you told him,” he asked the Priest, “all about the Amulet?”
“No,” said Rekh-marā.
“Then tell him now. He is very learned. Perhaps he can tell us what to do.”
Rekh-marā hesitated, then told—and, oddly enough, none of the children ever could remember afterwards what it was that he did tell. Perhaps he used some magic to prevent their remembering.
When he had done the learned gentleman was silent, leaning his elbow on the table and his head on his hand.
“Dear Jimmy,” said Anthea gently, “don’t worry about it. We are sure to find it today, somehow.”