It was an inspiration. Nothing less. All the protest died out of his eyes in the softened look of puzzled inquiry he bent on her.
“Your mother?” he repeated, so gently.
“I am Volna Drakona.” He turned toward me. “That was not the truth we told you yesterday. Before you condemn us, hear all our story. My mother’s peril was the reason. You will listen to me?”
“I do not understand, but your mother’s child could never appeal to me for a hearing in vain. And this gentleman?”
“He is Mr. Robert Anstruther, an Englishman, who has risked his liberty and his life to help me.”
I saw that this partial explanation only added to the good man’s utter bewilderment. He stood looking from one to the other of us and then passed his hand slowly across his brow. Next he laid it gently on Volna’s head and smoothed her hair while he gazed into her face.
“Yes, you must be her daughter. Come to my study and just tell me everything.”
He opened the door for her and I was following when he turned and said courteously but with unmistakable significance: “I will speak with you afterwards, sir.”
Then the door closed on them.