“Very likely,” said Cyril, worriedly. “I say, I do wish you’d give up this idea of conquering Britain. It’s not worth while, really it isn’t!” “On the contrary,” said Caesar, “what you’ve told me has decided me to go, if it’s only to find out what Britain is really like. Guards, detain these children.” “Quick,” said Robert, “before the guards begin detaining. We had enough of that in Babylon.” Jane held up the Amulet away from the sunset, and said the word. The learned gentleman was pushed through and the others more quickly than ever before passed through the arch back into their own times and the quiet dusty sitting-room of the learned gentleman. It is a curious fact that when Caesar was encamped on the coast of Gaul—somewhere near Boulogne it was, I believe—he was sitting before his tent in the glow of the sunset, looking out over the violet waters of the English Channel. Suddenly he started, rubbed his eyes, and called his secretary. The young man came quickly from within the tent. “Marcus,” said Caesar. “I have dreamed a very wonderful dream. Some of it I forget, but I remember enough to decide what was not before determined. Tomorrow the ships that have been brought round from the Ligeris shall be provisioned. We shall sail for this three-cornered island. First, we will take but two legions. This, if what we have heard be true, should suffice. But if my dream be true, then a hundred legions will not suffice. For the dream I dreamed was the most wonderful that ever tormented the brain even of Caesar. And Caesar has dreamed some strange things in his time.” “And if you hadn’t told Caesar all that about how things are now, he’d never have invaded Britain,” said Robert to Jane as they sat down to tea. “Oh, nonsense,” said Anthea, pouring out; “it was all settled hundreds of years ago.” “I don’t know,” said Cyril. “Jam, please. This about time being only a thingummy of thought is very confusing. If everything happens at the same time—” “It _can’t!_” said Anthea stoutly, “the present’s the present and the past’s the past.” “Not always,” said Cyril. “When we were in the Past the present was the future. Now then!” he added triumphantly. And Anthea could not deny it. “I should have liked to see more of the camp,” said Robert. “Yes, we didn’t get much for our money—but Imogen is happy, that’s one thing,” said Anthea. “We left her happy in the Past. I’ve often seen about people being happy in the Past, in poetry books. I see what it means now.” “It’s not a bad idea,” said the Psammead sleepily, putting its head out of its bag and taking it in again suddenly, “being left in the Past.” Everyone remembered this afterwards, when— CHAPTER XI. BEFORE PHARAOH