And, as one drop of water mingles with another, when the window-glass is rain-wrinkled, as one quick-silver bead is drawn to another quick-silver bead, Rekh-mara, Divine Father of the Temple of Amen-Ra, was drawn into, slipped into, disappeared into, and was one with Jimmy, the good, the beloved, the learned gentleman.
And suddenly it was good daylight and the December sun shone.

The fog has passed away like a dream.
The Amulet was there--little and complete in jane's hand, and there were the other children and the Psammead, and the learned gentleman.

But Rekh-mara--or the body of Rekh-mara--was not there any more.

As for his soul...
'Oh, the horrid thing!' cried Robert, and put his foot on a centipede as long as your finger, that crawled and wriggled and squirmed at the learned gentleman's feet.
'THAT,' said the Psammead, 'WAS the evil in the soul of Rekh-mara.' There was a deep silence.
'Then Rekh-mara's HIM now ?' said Jane at last.
'All that was good in Rekh-mara,' said the Psammead.
'HE ought to have his heart's desire, too,' said Anthea, in a sort of stubborn gentleness.
'HIS heart's desire,' said the Psammead, 'is the perfect Amulet you hold in your hand.

Yes--and has been ever since he first saw the broken half of it.' 'We've got ours,' said Anthea softly.
'Yes,' said the Psammead--its voice was crosser than they had ever heard it--'your parents are coming home.