I must confess to a considerable amount of curiosity myself as we entered the shop and asked to be shown the carpet which Shin Shira declared to be endued with such remarkable properties.

It was a very handsome one, and the shopkeeper showed it to us with a considerable amount of pride.

“It’s a genuine article, sir,” he told me.  “Came over only last week from Arabia in a special parcel purchased by our agent in Baghdad—­I believe it’s very old.  These foreigners know how to make things which will last.”

I inquired the price, and hesitated considerably when I found that it was far in excess of the amount I had intended to pay for a rug.

However, Lionel seemed so very eager, and Shin Shira assured me so positively that it was really a bargain, that, with a sigh at what I feared was a great piece of extravagance on my part, I took out my purse and paid for it.  “To where shall I send it?” inquired the shopkeeper.

“Let’s ride home on it and save the cab fare,” whispered Shin Shira, pulling me down to his level by my sleeve.

“Good gracious!” I exclaimed.

“Why not?  It will be the quickest way home, and certainly the least expensive,” persuaded the little Yellow Dwarf.

“But—­but—­” I protested.

Shin Shira had already spread the carpet on the ground, and pulling Lionel on to it, beckoned me to follow.

Half mechanically I obeyed his instructions, and had no sooner sat down on it, cross-legged, as I saw that Shin Shira and Lionel were doing, than the little Yellow Dwarf cried out something in a language which I supposed to be Arabic—­and immediately we began to rise into the air.

[Illustration:  “We floated away over the roofs of the houses.”]

I shall never forget the expression of dismay on the countenance of the shopkeeper and his assistants, when they saw us slowly floating in the air towards the door.

“Open it! open it, somebody!” shouted Shin Shira, and a bewildered-looking customer who had just entered instinctively pulled the handle.  Before we knew where we were, we found ourselves out in the open air with a shouting, gesticulating, excited crowd watching us as we rose higher and higher, and floated away over the roofs of the houses.

The sensation, I must admit, was a pleasant one, and, despite a slight feeling of nervousness (which, however, young Sutcliffe did not appear to share), I quite enjoyed the journey to my flat.

There were, fortunately, but very few people about, and we arrived at the door without attracting much attention.

One nervous old lady, at whose feet we descended somewhat suddenly, did threaten to call the police—­saying rather angrily that “What with motor-cars and such-like,” she “didn’t know what we were a-coming to, and it wasn’t safe for a respectable lady to walk about the streets, what with one thing and another.”

I managed, however, to soothe her ruffled feelings, and, rolling the rug up carefully, we went up to the flat.  I threw myself into a chair in the study, thoroughly tired out and not a little bewildered by the strange events of the morning.