I
wish--'
'Stop!' cried the Phoenix; 'the carpet is dropping to earth.'
And indeed it was.
It sank swiftly, yet steadily, and landed on the pavement of the
Deptford Road. It tipped a little as it landed, so that Cyril and
Anthea naturally walked off it, and in an instant it had rolled
itself up and hidden behind a gate-post. It did this so quickly
that not a single person in the Deptford Road noticed it. The
Phoenix rustled its way into the breast of Cyril's coat, and almost
at the same moment a well-known voice remarked--
'Well, I never! What on earth are you doing here?'
They were face to face with their pet uncle--their Uncle Reginald.
'We DID think of going to Greenwich Palace and talking about
Nelson,' said Cyril, telling as much of the truth as he thought his
uncle could believe.
'And where are the others?' asked Uncle Reginald.
'I don't exactly know,' Cyril replied, this time quite truthfully.
'Well,' said Uncle Reginald, 'I must fly. I've a case in the
County Court. That's the worst of being a beastly solicitor. One
can't take the chances of life when one gets them. If only I could
come with you to the Painted Hall and give you lunch at the "Ship"
afterwards! But, alas! it may not be.'
The uncle felt in his pocket.
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