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 forehead and cheek and the back of his neck; then taking his hand, she held it in hers. Turning to her husband, she said quickly in a low voice:

"He isn't at all feverish!" Then she said, "Now, dear, don't talk quite so fast. Tell Mother all about it."

Fen lay back among the pillows and looked rather helplessly at Sally and Larry, who were gazing at him with varying degrees of astonishment. They themselves had little imagination, and this seemed to them a wild enough fancy.

"Truly, it was a Djinn," he said, looking up into his mother's face; "and here are the scarabs."

He got them out of the pocket of his dressing-gown and laid them in her hand.

"Well of all—look, Hal!" she cried, turning to Fen's father, who came to her laughing and holding out a bit of paper on which was penciled: 20