“Ah, I don’t mean your pretty little childish mysteries about where you got it. But about the thing itself. First, the wonderful dreams I used to have, after you’d shown me the first half of it! Why, my book on Atlantis, that I did, was the beginning of my fame and my fortune, too. And I got it all out of a dream! And then, ‘Britain at the Time of the Roman Invasion’—that was only a pamphlet, but it explained a lot of things people hadn’t understood.” “Yes,” said Anthea, “it would.” “That was the beginning. But after you’d given me the whole of the Amulet—ah, it was generous of you!—then, somehow, I didn’t need to theorize, I seemed to _know_ about the old Egyptian civilization. And they can’t upset my theories”—he rubbed his thin hands and laughed triumphantly—“they can’t, though they’ve tried. Theories, they call them, but they’re more like—I don’t know—more like memories. I _know_ I’m right about the secret rites of the Temple of Amen.” “I’m so glad you’re rich,” said Anthea. “You weren’t, you know, at Fitzroy Street.” “Indeed I wasn’t,” said he, “but I am now. This beautiful house and this lovely garden—I dig in it sometimes; you remember, you used to tell me to take more exercise? Well, I feel I owe it all to you—and the Amulet.” “I’m so glad,” said Anthea, and kissed him. He started. “_That_ didn’t feel like a dream,” he said, and his voice trembled. “It isn’t exactly a dream,” said Anthea softly, “it’s all part of the Amulet—it’s a sort of extra special, real dream, dear Jimmy.” “Ah,” said he, “when you call me that, I know I’m dreaming. My little sister—I dream of her sometimes. But it’s not real like this. Do you remember the day I dreamed you brought me the Babylonish ring?” “We remember it all,” said Robert. “Did you leave Fitzroy Street because you were too rich for it?” “Oh, no!” he said reproachfully. “You know I should never have done such a thing as that. Of course, I left when your old Nurse died and—what’s the matter!” “Old Nurse _dead?_” said Anthea. “Oh, _no!_” “Yes, yes, it’s the common lot. It’s a long time ago now.” Jane held up the Amulet in a hand that twittered. “Come!” she cried, “oh, come home! She may be dead before we get there, and then we can’t give it to her. Oh, come!” “Ah, don’t let the dream end now!” pleaded the learned gentleman. “It must,” said Anthea firmly, and kissed him again. “When it comes to people dying,” said Robert, “good-bye! I’m so glad you’re rich and famous and happy.” “_Do_ come!” cried Jane, stamping in her agony of impatience. And they went. Old Nurse brought in tea almost as soon as they were back in Fitzroy Street. As she came in with the tray, the girls rushed at her and nearly upset her and it. “Don’t die!” cried Jane, “oh, don’t!” and Anthea cried, “Dear, ducky, darling old Nurse, don’t die!” “Lord, love you!” said Nurse, “I’m not agoin’ to die yet a while, please Heaven! Whatever on earth’s the matter with the chicks?” “Nothing. Only don’t!”