This is what the voice said. I think it must have meant Napoleon by the small man, the conqueror. Because I know I have been told that he took an army to Egypt, and that afterwards a lot of wise people went grubbing in the sand, and fished up all sorts of wonderful things, older than you would think possible. And of these I believe this charm to have been one, and the most wonderful one of all.
Everyone listened: and everyone tried to think. It is not easy to do this clearly when you have been listening to the kind of talk I have told you about.
“Can you take us into the Past—to the shrine where you and the other thing were together. If you could take us there, we might find the other part still there after all these thousands of years.”
“Still there? silly!” said Cyril. “Don’t you see, if we go back into the Past it won’t be thousands of years ago. It will be _now_ for us—won’t it?” He appealed to the Psammead, who said—
“You’re not so far off the idea as you usually are!”
“Well,” said Anthea, “will you take us back to when there was a shrine and you were safe in it—all of you?”
“Yes,” said the voice. “You must hold me up, and speak the word of power, and one by one, beginning with the first-born, you shall pass through me into the Past. But let the last that passes be the one that holds me, and let him not lose his hold, lest you lose me, and so remain in the Past for ever.”
“When you desire to return,” the beautiful voice went on, “hold me up towards the East, and speak the word. Then, passing through me, you shall return to this time and it shall be the present to you.”
“Oh crikey!” exclaimed Robert, “that’s tea! Will you please make it proper daylight again so that we can go down. And thank you so much for all your kindness.”
“We’ve enjoyed ourselves very much indeed, thank you!” added Anthea politely.
The beautiful light faded slowly. The great darkness and silence came and these suddenly changed to the dazzlement of day and the great soft, rustling sound of London, that is like some vast beast turning over in its sleep.
The children rubbed their eyes, the Psammead ran quickly to its sandy bath, and the others went down to tea. And until the cups were actually filled tea seemed less real than the beautiful voice and the greeny light.