But far worse than the street scents was the scent of the factory, where the skipper called in to sell his night's catch.

I wish I could tell you all about that factory, but I haven't time, and perhaps after all you aren't interested in dyeing works.

I will only mention that Robert was triumphantly proved to be right.

The dye WAS a yellowish-white liquid of a creamy consistency, and it smelt more strongly of garlic than garlic itself does.
While the skipper was bargaining with the master of the dye works the Egyptian came close to the children, and said, suddenly and softly-- 'Trust me.' 'I wish we could,' said Anthea.
'You feel,' said the Egyptian, 'that I want your Amulet.

That makes you distrust me.' 'Yes,' said Cyril bluntly.
'But you also, you want my Amulet, and I am trusting you.' 'There's something in that,' said Robert.
'We have the two halves of the Amulet,' said the Priest, 'but not yet the pin that joined them.