Sometirred in tudy . S so do and tapped on t opened almost at once.

        “Good girl. e in quickly. e    got long,” said ter, and dreain back across tered. he was fully dressed in his usual black.

        “Arent I going after all?” Lyra asked.

        “Yes; I t prevent it,” said ter, and Lyra didnt notice at time    o say. “Lyra, Im going to give you somet promise to keep it private. ill you so t?”

        “Yes,” Lyra said.

        o took from a dra. cal. It mig.

        “ is it?” she said.

        “Its aer. Its one of only six t    private. It ter if Mrs. Coulter didnt kno it. Your uncle—”

        “But    do?”

        “It tells you truto read it, youll o learn by yourself. Nos getting ligo your room before anyone sees you.”

        over trument and t it into    .

        Sried to look up at    o say about Uncle Asriel?”

        “Your uncle prese to Jordan College some years ago. —”

        Before    urgent kno tary tremor.

        “Qui.

        Men and ides muco t. Go well, Lyra; bless you, child, bless you.

        Keep your own sel.”

        “ter,” sifully.

        Clutco , s tudy by to see ters daemon cer already; t fresir in the air.

        “s t youve got?” said Mrs. Lonsdale, closing ttered little suitcase h a snap.

        “ter gave it me. t it go in tcase?” “too late. Im not opening it noll o go in your coat pocket,    is. o ttery; doing....”

        It er so ts    s guilty for not    of ing Mrs. Coulter.     no doubt Mrs. Coulter urn up eventually.

        And notio talaimons stle ermine pao    paed against ter sat    s talked. Suc talk! Lyra oxicated; not about time, but about London, and taurants and ballrooms, t embassies or ministries, trigues beter. Lyra    more fasated by t Mrs. Coulter o be apanied by a st of gr but entig at time: it he smell of glamour.

        * * * t ride across t    issionaire (a sort of porter ed Mrs. Coulter and    Lyra, who sized him up expressionlessly.

        And t...

        Lyra could only gasp.

        S deal of beauty in    life, but it y, Oxford beauty—grand and stony and mase. In Jordan College, muc, but notty. In Mrs. Coulters flat, everytty. It riped    frames, an antique looking-glass, fanciful sces bearing anbaric lamps oo, and floain rail, and a soft green leaf-pattern carpet underfoot; and every surface    seemed to Lyras i eye, ty little a boxes and shepherdesses and harlequins of porcelain.

        Mrs. Coulter smiled at ion.

        “Yes, Lyra,” s to sake your coat off and Ill take you to then well have some lund go shopping....”

        to    struggled out of taps    best, and often flecked . But er , to. And around tinted mirror ttle pink lig    sly illuminated figure quite uhe Lyra she knew.

        Pantalaimon, ing ters daemon, crouc o ter and suddenly remembered ter in    pocket. S t on a cer to keep it secret from Mrs. Coulter....

        Oer er trying to poison Uncle Asriel.    obedieo?

        Sily and o tting room, ill lay untouched, of course.

        “Ready?” said Mrs. Coulter. “I t o tistitute for lunc as he privileges I have.”

        ty minutes ook to a grand stone-fronted building    silver on tables, and ate calves liver and ba.

        “Calves liver is all riger told    if youre stuck for food in tiust bear liver. ts full of a poison tll kill you in minutes.”

        As te, Mrs. Coulter pointed out some of t tables.

        “Dyou see tlemas el Carborn.    balloon fligall man by t got up is Dr. Broken Arrow.”

        “Is he a Skraeling?”

        “Yes. s in t Northern O....”

        Lyra looked at t men, y and a about t, but too. Dr. Broken Arro bear livers; sed whe Librarian of Jordan College would.

        After luncer sic reli titute library—t ion in an u; a fire-striker used by Captain o Van tierens Land.

        Sold tory of eac    stir ion for t, brave, distant heroes.

        And t sraordinary day    s dizzying. to go into a vast building full of beautiful clot you try t yourself in mirrors...And tty....Lyras cloto    of t    for looks; and so find Mrs. Coulter suggesting t, and paying for it all, and more...

        By time t-eyed iredness.

        Mrs. Coulter ordered most of took one or to t.

        ted foam. Mrs. Coulter came into to le. Pantalaimon til Mrs. Coulter looked at    s and turned aing ly from teries as to look away from Lyra before.

        ter tdress ed flohen bed.

        So soft, tle, t on table! And ttle cupboards and a dressing table and a c of drao tty curtains covered in stars and moons and plas! Lyra lay stiffly, too tired to sleep, too eo question anything.

        er    goodnig, Pantalaimon plucked at    hing?”

        S ong up cross-legged in t, alaimon d looked at    er had given her.

        “ did ?” she whispered.

        “Aer.”

        t in asking    meant. It lay al face gleaming, tely mag to places around t instead of ts of ttle pictures, eaced raordinary precision, as if on ivory    and sle sable brusuro look at ted by a skull; a cy-six altoget even guess .

        “talaimon. “See if you     up.”

        ttle knurled er isfying clicks. You could arrao point at any of tures, and oo position, pointily at ter of eac move.

        to be made of a duller metal t trol its movement at all; it sed to, like a pass needle, except t it didle.

        “Meter means measure,” said Pantalaimon. “Like ter. told us t.”

        “Yes, but ts t,” s dyou ts for?”

        a long time turning to point at one symbol or anot, dolpe, passes; dle, t, ever-ceasing errant ood nued and deligy and tail. Pantalaimon became a mouse to get closer to it, aed iny paton eyes brigy as eedle swing.

        “ do you ter meant about Uncle Asriel?” she said.

        “Per to keep it safe and give it to him.”

        “But ter o poison s te. Pero say dont give it to him.”

        “No,” Pantalaimon said, “it    safe from—”

        t kno the door.

        Mrs. Coulter said, “Lyra, I s t out if I ired, and omorrow.”

        Lyra    ter sly us.

        “All riger,” she said.

        “Goodnight now.”

        “Goodnight.”

        Sc. Before sucked ter u in case.
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