“No—oh, _no_,” said Cyril. “It’s all right now. Thanks ever so.” “You are a dear,” cried Anthea, not in the least knowing what she was saying. “Oh, thank you thank you. But _do_ go _now!_” She caught the hand of the creature, and it was cold and hard in hers, like a hand of stone. “Go forward,” said Nisroch. And they went. “Oh, my good gracious,” said the Queen as they stood before her. “How did you get here? I _knew_ you were magic. I meant to let you out the first thing in the morning, if I could slip away—but thanks be to Dagon, you’ve managed it for yourselves. You must get away. I’ll wake my chief lady and she shall call Ritti-Marduk, and he’ll let you out the back way, and—” “Don’t rouse anybody for goodness’ sake,” said Anthea, “except Jane, and I’ll rouse her.” She shook Jane with energy, and Jane slowly awoke. “Ritti-Marduk brought them in hours ago, really,” said the Queen, “but I wanted to have the Psammead all to myself for a bit. You’ll excuse the little natural deception?—it’s part of the Babylonish character, don’t you know? But I don’t want anything to happen to you. Do let me rouse someone.” “No, no, no,” said Anthea with desperate earnestness. She thought she knew enough of what the Babylonians were like when they were roused. “We can go by our own magic. And you will tell the King it wasn’t the gaoler’s fault. It was Nisroch.” “Nisroch!” echoed the Queen. “You are indeed magicians.” Jane sat up, blinking stupidly. “Hold _It_ up, and say the word,” cried Cyril, catching up the Psammead, which mechanically bit him, but only very slightly. “Which is the East?” asked Jane. “Behind me,” said the Queen. “Why?” “Ur Hekau Setcheh,” said Jane sleepily, and held up the charm. And there they all were in the dining-room at 300, Fitzroy Street. “Jane,” cried Cyril with great presence of mind, “go and get the plate of sand down for the Psammead.” Jane went. “Look here!” he said quickly, as the sound of her boots grew less loud on the stairs, “don’t let’s tell her about the dungeon and all that. It’ll only frighten her so that she’ll never want to go anywhere else.” “Righto!” said Cyril; but Anthea felt that she could not have said a word to save her life. “Why did you want to come back in such a hurry?” asked Jane, returning with the plate of sand. “It was awfully jolly in Babylon, I think! I liked it no end.” “Oh, yes,” said Cyril carelessly. “It was jolly enough, of course, but I thought we’d been there long enough. Mother always says you oughtn’t to wear out your welcome!” CHAPTER VIII. THE QUEEN IN LONDON “Now tell us what happened to you,” said Cyril to Jane, when he and the others had told her all about the Queen’s talk and the banquet, and the variety entertainment, carefully stopping short before the beginning of the dungeon part of the story. “It wasn’t much good going,” said Jane, “if you didn’t even try to get the Amulet.”