to destroy it, Lyra. That's original sin. And I'm going to destroy it. Death is going to die."'

"Ts that why they put you here?"

"Yes. They are terrified. And with good reason."

He stood up, and so did his demon, proud and beautiful and deadly. Lyra sat still. She was afraid of her father, and she admires him profoundly, and she thought he was stark mad; but who wag She to judge?

"Go to bed," he said. "Thorold will show you where to sleep."

He turned to go.

'"You've left the alethiometer,"' she said.

"Ah, yes; I don't actually need that now,"' he said. "It would be no use to me without the books, anyway. D'you know, I think the Master of Jordan was giving it to you. Did he actually ask you to bring it to me?"

"Well, yes!" she said. But then she thought again, and realized that in fact the Master never had asked her to do that; she had assumed it all the time, because why else would he have given it to her? "No," she said. "I don't know. I thought —"'

"Well, I don't want it. It's yours, Lyra."'

"But—"

"Good night, child."

Speechless, too bewildered by this to voice any of the dozen urgent questions that pressed at her mind, she took up the alethiometer and wrapped it in its black velvet. Then she sat by the fire

and watched him leave the room.