d dispersed, up alleys
and into the courts of houses, and the Guards in their embossed leather
chariots swept down the street at the gallop, their wheels clattering
over the stones, and their dark-coloured, blue tunics blown open and
back with the wind of their going.

'So THAT riot's over,' said the crimped-linen-dressed lady; 'that's
a blessing! And did you notice the Captain of the Guard? What a very
handsome man he was, to be sure!'

The four children had taken advantage of the moment's pause before the
crowd turned to fly, to edge themselves and drag each other into an
arched doorway.

Now they each drew a long breath and looked at the others.

'We're well out of THAT,' said Cyril.

'Yes,' said Anthea, 'but I do wish the poor men hadn't been driven back
before they could get to the King. He might have done something for
them.'

'Not if he was the one in the Bible he wouldn't,' said Jane. 'He had a
hard heart.' 'Ah, that was the Moses one,' Anthea explained. 'The Joseph
one was quite different. I should like to see Pharaoh's house. I wonder
whether it's like the Egyptian Court in the Crystal Palace.'

'I thought we decided to try to get taken on in a Temple,' said Cyril in
injured tones.

'Yes, but we've got to know someone first. Couldn't we make friends
with a Temple doorkeeper--we might give him the padlock or something. I
wonder which are temples and which are palaces,' Robert added, glancing
across the market-place to where an enormous gateway with huge side
buildings towered towards the sky. To right and left of it were other
buildings only a little less magnificent.

'Did you wish to seek out the Temple of Amen Ra?' asked a soft voice
behind them, 'or the Temple of Mut, or the Temple of Khonsu?'

They turned to find beside them a young man. He was shaved clean from
head to foot, and on his feet were light papyrus sandals. He was clothed
in a linen tunic of white, embroidered heavily in colours. He was gay
with anklets, bracelets, and armlets of gold, richly inlaid. He wore
a ring on his finger, and he had a short jacket of gold embroidery
something like the Zouave soldiers wear, and on his neck was a gold
collar with many amulets hanging from it. But among the amulets the
children could see none like theirs.

'It doesn't matter which Temple,' said Cyril frankly.

'Tell me your mission,' said the young man. 'I am a divine father of the
Temple of Amen Ra and perhaps I can help you.'

'Well,' sa