From each Amulet a great and beautiful green light streamed and shone far out over the waves.

It illuminated, too, the black faces and jagged teeth of the great rocks that lay not two ships' lengths from the boat's peaked nose.
'Tyre, Tyre for ever! It's Tyre that rules the waves!' the voices of the doomed rose in a triumphant shout.

The children scrambled through the arch, and stood trembling and blinking in the Fitzroy Street parlour, and in their ears still sounded the whistle of the wind, and the rattle of the oars, the crash of the ships bow on the rocks, and the last shout of the brave gentlemen-adventurers who went to their deaths singing, for the sake of the city they loved.
'And so we've lost the other half of the Amulet again,' said Anthea, when they had told the Psammead all about it.
'Nonsense, pooh!' said the Psammead.

'That wasn't the other half.

It was the same half that you've got--the one that wasn't crushed and lost.' 'But how could it be the same ?' said Anthea gently.
'Well, not exactly, of course.