'
So for a short time no one spoke, and the carpet sailed on in calm
magnificence over St Pancras and King's Cross stations and over the
crowded streets of Clerkenwell.
'We're going out Greenwich way,' said Cyril, as they crossed the
streak of rough, tumbled water that was the Thames. 'We might go
and have a look at the Palace.'
On and on the carpet swept, still keeping much nearer to the
chimney-pots than the children found at all comfortable. And then,
just over New Cross, a terrible thing happened.
Jane and Robert were in the middle of the carpet. Part of them was
on the carpet, and part of them--the heaviest part--was on the
great central darn.
'It's all very misty,' said Jane; 'it looks partly like out of
doors and partly like in the nursery at home. I feel as if I was
going to have measles; everything looked awfully rum then,
remember.'
'I feel just exactly the same,' Robert said.
'It's the hole,' said the Phoenix; 'it's not measles whatever that
possession may be.'
And at that both Robert and Jane suddenly, and at once, made a
bound to try and get on to the safer part of the carpet, and the
darn gave way and their boots went up, and the heavy heads and
bodies of them went down through the hole, and they landed in a
position something between sitting and sprawling on the flat leads
on the top of a high, grey, gloomy, respectable house whose address
was 705, Amersham Road, New Cross.
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