understand, if we only knew what it was. Nor can I tell you how
the charm spoke, nor whether it was the charm that spoke, or some
presence in the charm. The children could not have told you
either. Indeed, they could not look at the charm while it was
speaking, because the light was too bright. They looked instead
at the green radiance on the faded Kidderminster carpet at the
edge of the circle. They all felt very quiet, and not inclined
to ask questions or fidget with their feet. For this was not
like the things that had happened in the country when the
Psammead had given them their wishes. That had been funny
somehow, and this was not. It was something like Arabian Nights
magic, and something like being in church. No one cared to
speak.

It was Cyril who said at last--

'Please we want to know where the other half of the charm is.'

'The part of the Amulet which is lost,' said the beautiful voice,
'was broken and ground into the dust of the shrine that held it.
It and the pin that joined the two halves are themselves dust,
and the dust is scattered over many lands and sunk in many seas.'

'Oh, I say!' murmured Robert, and a blank silence fell. 'Then
it's all up?' said Cyril at last; 'it's no use our looking for a
thing that's smashed into dust, and the dust scattered all over
the place.'

'If you would find it,' said the voice, 'You must seek it where
it still is, perfect as ever.'