Una hesitated. To leave her uncle and the others, trusting herself entirely to this mysterious being, was more than she had bargained for. Divining the cause of her irresolution, Narva spoke reassuringly.
“They are safe,” she said. “We will come back to them.”
Something in the older woman’s manner won Una’s confidence. She felt that a way out of their difficulties was being offered her. Hope of a still greater result silenced her fears.
“Yes,” she said.
Then, behind one of the stone benches, yielding to Narva’s touch, a door slowly opened, revealing a narrow passage upon which they entered.
Glancing hastily back, Una noticed that the door, a great block of stone revolving with the utmost nicety in grooves made for the purpose, had closed behind them. She was thus separated from her companions and alone with a singular being whose purpose in all this she was at a loss to fathom. Narva’s trustworthiness had appealed to her, it is true, and she had followed her leading when the others held back. But there was an air about Narva, suggesting the occasional freaks of one whose wits are not of the steadiest, that might well cause anxiety among those temporarily in her power. Just now, however, there was no sign of trouble, and Una repressed any outward evidence of alarm she might feel. Narva, indeed, seemed to have lost the solemn dignity she had assumed hitherto, and became every moment more ingratiating, reassuring. Gently stroking Una’s hand, she stopped in her hurried walk down the corridor and, throwing back the heavy veil obscuring her features, showed a face marked by the nobility and calm of age. Its serenity and kindliness strengthened Una’s confidence.
“We will go back to them,” said Narva; “but first we must see,” she added enigmatically.
“Why have you brought me here?” asked Una.
“Something you will see. You will help us, and then I will help you. I knew you were coming.”
The explanation, if it could be called one, increased Una’s mystification.