Except for this knob,
which is mine.
Be that as it may, Bookman, there's
been bad blood between us long enough.
Let this glittering gift
begin friendship anew.
- Draw the curtains and lock the door.
- You'll be snug as a bug.
Mr. Browne, isn't that
the section of the manuscript
that we've been looking for?
- Who is this person?
- Miss Eglantine Price,
a charming young woman
of my acquaintance.
Miss Price, I've been looking
for this other bit a long time.
Mr. Swinburne told me you were
in the market making inquiries.
And here we are.
I don't mind saying,
to see it all together at last,
there isn't much I wouldn't do.
Or haven't done, for that matter.
Right, gov?
You'll close your mouth,
Swinburne! Is that clear?
It's all rather like a jolly
detective story or jigsaw puzzle,
isn't it?
We're both after
the same spell.
You have one clue,
I have the other.
Yes. In that case,
the sensible thing seems to be...
for us to cooperate.
Yes. I'd rather cooperate
with a cobra.
Would you prefer
that I ask Swinburne...
to take the book from her?
Here, you.
None of that.
- Bookman.
- Yes.
I assume you're looking
for the same thing I am.
May I?
This is quite a moment
for both of us.
"Substitutiary locomotion,
the lost miracle of the ancients".
And so on and so forth.
Ah! Here we are!
"The spell which creates
this force is five mystic words.
These words are-"
"Engraved on the star
that was always worn...
by the sorcerer Astoroth".
But where are the words of the spell?
I assumed they'd be in
your half of the manuscript.
But I thought they'd be in yours!
Once again, a dead end.
I shall never know
the secret.
Isn't that old Astoroth?
And there's his star.
It's a pity it's so small
you can't read the writing.
- But why the animals?
- Towards the end of his life,
Astoroth kept animals in cages
and searched for the spells...
that would make them
more like humans.
The legend is that finally
the animals rebelled at the experiment,
killed Astoroth and stole
many of his powers.
- Including the star with the spell on it.
- Possibly.
They found a ship, sailed away
and were never heard of again.
However, there's a final notation
in my half of the book...
saying that
in the 17 th century...
a shipwrecked lascar
was taken from the sea,
half mad with thirst
and exposure to the sun.
Before he died, he swore he had seen
an island ruled by animals.
- Where?
- There is, I regret to say,
no such island.
I looked for it
in every chart.
The Isle of Naboombu
does not exist.
Oh, it does too!
Got me own...
- What is he trying to say?
- Nothing.
When he don't say nothing,
he mumbles.
I wish the child to speak!
Now you've done it.
There is too such a place.
Got me own book. There.
Real pretty letters, ain't it?
Let me see it.
You're not interested, Bookman.
It's just a simple children's book.
- I'll be the judge of that. Give it to me.
- No.
Please don't annoy me.
- Give me the book, boy.
- Not likely.
Bit of a stalemate,
isn't it?
If it's all the same to you,
I'd rather use me own.
Sentiment, you know.
Come along, Paul.
I believe it's time to go.
Go? How, my dear?
The door is locked.
Observe the fundamental weakness
of the criminal mind.
- You will believe in no one or anything.
- I understand. The knob, Paul.
- Right.
Of course you do, my dear.
Do you realize we can
tell them the complete truth?
They will believe nothing!
- He's up to something, you know.
- Bookman!
Before your very eyes,
I shall cause this bed and all
the occupants upon it to disappear.
Disappear? I should like to see
a cheapjack tenth-rate entertainer...
do a trick like that.
Cheapjack entertainer?
Now, that was naughty.
- All right, Paul.
- Where to?
To the Island of Naboombu.
I'm very curious about that place.
Good. Bed, take us
to the Island of Naboombu.
Enough of this nonsense.
Get the book.
Beastly climate.
I never did fancy the sea.
- Where are