'You want some starlight to put you in touch again. Come
on; let's go in. We shall find all the others inside, I suspect, hard
at it.'
'At what?' asked two breathless voices.
'Collecting, of course--for others. Did you think they ate the stuff,
just to amuse themselves?'
'They glided towards the opening, cutting through the little tributary
stream that was pouring out on its way down the sky to that room in La
Citadelle. It was brighter than the main river, they saw, and shone
with a peculiar brilliance of its own, whiter and swifter than the
rest. Designs, moreover, like crystals floated on the crest of every
wave.
'That's the best quality,' he told them, as their faces shone a moment
in its glory. 'The person who deserves it must live entirely for
others. That he keeps only for the sad and lonely. The rest, the
common stuff, is good enough for Fraulein or for baby, or for mother,
or any other----' The words rose in him like flowers that he knew.
'Look out, _mon vieux_! 'It was Monkey's voice. They just had time to
stand aside as a figure shot past them and disappeared into the
darkness above the trees. A big bundle, dripping golden dust, hung
down his back.
'The Dustman!' they cried with excitement, easily recognising his
energetic yet stooping figure; and Jimbo added, 'the dear old
Dustman!' while Monkey somersaulted after him, returning breathless a
minute later with, 'He's gone; I couldn't get near him.
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